


I Will Carry You

by PluvioRose



Category: 9-1-1 (TV), 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 9-1-1 Crossover, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Buck Centric, Buck Whump, Canon Trans Character, Crossover, Dyslexic Mateo Chavez, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, Exposition, F/F, F/M, Firehouse 118 Family (9-1-1), Good Dad Owen Strand, Good Uncle Owen Strand, Guilt, Guilty Bobby Nash, Guilty Evan Buckley, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt TK Strand, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, M/M, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Owen Strand is a Good Dad, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, POV Howie "Chimney" Han, POV Owen Strand, Phone Calls & Telephones, Protective Athena Grant, Protective Carlos Reyes, Protective Evan "Buck" Buckley, Protective Firehouse 126 Crew, Protective Siblings, September 11 Attacks, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, TK Strand Needs A Hug, Underage Drug Use, Worried TK Strand, so much exposition, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PluvioRose/pseuds/PluvioRose
Summary: When Buck returns after the lawsuit is resolved and endures months of an unexpected form of abuse at the hands of his crew, he starts to wonder if the things they say are actually true. Unable and unwilling to bring his sister greater trouble, he reaches out to the only other family he has left, his Uncle Owen and cousin TK, in the hope that they can help him put his broken pieces back together. And when it turns out that TK needs just as much help as Buck, Owen comes up with a plan that just might help him carry both his boys to a safer place.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Howie "Chimney" Han, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley, Grace Ryder/Judd Ryder (9-1-1 Lone Star), Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han, Owen Strand & Evan "Buck" Buckley, Owen Strand & TK Strand, TK Strand & Evan "Buck" Buckley
Comments: 216
Kudos: 812





	1. Help?

**Author's Note:**

> I can't seem to escape the idea of the 118 team being a little more heartless towards Buck than we saw, but I wanted to explore a different form of mental torture. And then I thought, what would happen if, after spending all this time being tormented, Buck reached out to his favorite (and only) Uncle Owen for help, only to find out things are desperate on both sides of the continent. And thus, this fic was born! Because I'm a sucker for angsty Buck and TK, and also firmly believe Owen Strand is one of the best dads on TV, this is probably going to be an emotional whump-fest for a while. I also haven't decided what pairing will be Buck's end game just yet, and while I can promise a happy ending, I can't promise who will be a part of it. I haven't seen it just yet. For now, please enjoy the first of what I hope to be many chapters of "I Will Carry You"!  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Not beta'd by anyone but me. Mistakes may happen, and I welcome constructive criticism, kudos, or gratuitous amounts of punctuation in the comments. Thank you for reading, and remember to follow the tags and be kind to yourselves ♡  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends how it began, or does it? Evan finally accepts he needs help, so he calls the one person he knows will give it.

To say that life had been hard on Evan Buckley was about as much of an understatement as you could get.

And that was only after the firetruck explosion, blood clots, and tsunami.

For a normal person, events like that might be enough to convince them pursuing a career in anything even slightly dangerous would be foolish. But, perhaps not-so-fortunately for him, Buck was no ordinary individual. Being a firefighter may be dangerous, but it was who he was.

He was as much made of being a firefighter as he was made of molecules. Maybe even more.

Trying to get his team, his family, to understand that, however, proved more difficult than he’d anticipated. Suing the city of L.A., and Bobby, certainly hadn’t helped his cause in their eyes, but Buck believed after turning down the several million dollars the city offered in favor of returning to the 118, they’d finally realize how serious he was. He wasn’t Buck 1.0 anymore; he was a man who lived and breathed his work, who only wanted to be fighting with and for his team again.

When he got the call from Bobby asking him to join the rest of the team at the Rage Room, his joy had been tempered by nerves and anxiety, leaving him uncertain of what to expect. He’d refused the city’s settlement and dropped the suit a few days earlier, fully believing he’d never get his job back since they seemed so willing to pay him so much to make the problem—him—disappear.

Mackey hadn’t been too pleased with his decision, but Buck had made it clear the lawsuit was never about money.

He’d walked into the Rage Room fully expecting a severe dressing down from Bobby, only to be told he’d be getting the call about his reinstatement to the LAFD and the 118—despite almost being transferred to another house. Any anxiety-free joy he’d felt was short lived, however, when Bobby reminded him of a warning he’d given Buck 1.0: “My House, my rules. Remember?”

If only he had remembered.

In the months following his reinstatement, it seemed like everything Buck did was never enough. He may have been back at the 118, but it felt less and less like home every minute he was there.

Oh sure, he wasn’t riding a desk or on light duty anymore, so he was allowed out on calls. The problem was every call he went on, Bobby and the other members of the squad scrutinized and critiqued every move he made—from his hand positions using the Jaws, to how he rigged up a harness, to how much water he sprayed on one part of a fire versus another. Despite having been a firefighter for the better part of four years, they all treated him like a probie. Even Eddie, who’d been a firefighter for far less time than Buck, treated him like he had no clue what he was doing.

_“My House, my rules.”_

The comments that often followed him around the House or on calls only made it all the worse. His 118 family had always made lighthearted allusions that he was the less intelligent of the Buckley siblings; but now, it was like his mistake with the lawsuit gave them all free reign to constantly insult his intelligence, question his responsibility or loyalties to the job, and mire down any satisfaction he may take in a successful call by pointing out all the ways he should’ve done it better.

The fact that Bobby didn’t seem even remotely keen to stand up for him or refute the “critiques” he’d been receiving only served to remind Buck that this was just how things were…how they’d really always been.

_“My House, my rules.”_

_“This is not a family.”_

Buck had tried to take consolation in the fact that one person in the House refused to fall in line with the others in their quest to make Buck feel as small as humanly possible. Chimney had been the only one willing to tell Buck he did something right, that he’d made the right call, that he was still a good firefighter.

At first, Buck figured it was some sort of misplaced loyalty or respect for the brother of his girlfriend, that eventually the day would come when Chim would fall in line with Hen, Eddie, and the others, and remind him all the ways he was failing at his job.

_“My House, my rules.”_

To Buck’s surprise, though, that day never came. Despite his warnings about having patience his first day back on the job, Chimney never let Buck feel like he was inferior the way the others grew accustomed to doing. On more than one occasion, Chim even threatened to go to bat for him, to file a complaint with the department about how Buck was being treated or, at the very least, to tell Maddie what had been going on so she could do something about it.

Buck made it clear neither was an option. Maddie had been through enough already, and Buck wasn’t about to take another family away from her. And after all that he’d put the department through, this was just the penance he had to pay.

_“My House, my rules.”_

Buck made Chimney promise not to do anything that would jeopardize himself, his job, or Maddie’s relationships with anyone in the 118. And, when he couldn’t convince Buck to change his mind or stop the rest of the squad from constantly tormenting him, Chimney had seemingly resigned himself to both keeping said promise and doing what he could to keep Buck’s confidence—and his head—above water. When the rest of the crew belittled, Chimney would quietly compliment. When he wasn’t invited to sit with the rest of the team at meals, Chimney would bring him a plate and sit with him. When another Friday passed that Buck wasn’t invited to a movie night with Eddie and Christopher or a family dinner at Bobby and Athena’s, Chimney would invite him to Buffriday with himself, Maddie, and Josh.

Buck had appreciated his efforts, but the more time passed, the harder it was to be part of anything. He simply didn’t think he deserved to be. After fighting so hard to get back to the job he loved, to do what he had always believed he did best, only to be constantly told all the things he’d done wrong and the ways he had failed, Buck was no longer certain of anything anymore—least of all himself.

Despite Buck’s belief that he was born to be a firefighter, that it was the only thing he ever had that he was really good at, and despite Chimney and Maddie’s concern and care, the weight of his insecurities had started eating him alive. Months of being forced to question every move in his work now had him questioning every second of his life, every choice he made, every breath he took.

Evan Buckley could no longer determine what was fact or fiction about himself, from whether or not he should be a firefighter to whether or not he was even worth having around at all. If he was no good as a firefighter, then what good was he period? Being a firefighter was all he had, this House and the people part of it, they’re all he really has.

_But are they though?_

Briefly, Buck allowed his thoughts to drift to the only other people in the world who probably gave a damn he existed. He hadn’t seen his uncle or his cousin in months; Buck had refused to take any time off for fear of jeopardizing his standing at the 118 again, and he’d fobbed off calls and any attempts on their part to come see him for fear of what they might figure out.

But as he sat on the roof of the 118 and tried to collect himself after another round of the crew’s negative comments about his efforts at the apartment fire they’d just tackled, Buck figured—at this point—he didn’t have much else to lose. Staring out across the rooftops of L.A. at the last of the setting sun, his eyes watering slightly from a combination of the bright light and his own sorrows weighing on him, he hesitated for only a second before sliding his phone from his pocket and dialing the familiar number.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Over 2,500 miles away, Owen Strand felt the familiar vibration of his phone in his pocket. While it wasn’t unusual for him to get calls later in the evening, tonight was not a night he expected to hear from his House. The crew knew where he was tonight, and he was certain only the direst of emergencies would have them disturbing their Captain right now.

That left only one person who could be calling; Owen just wasn’t sure how he was going to tell him what happened.

_Again._

Yanking his nearly dead iPhone from his pocket, Owen briefly confirmed his suspicions about the caller’s identity before answering with a soft, “Hey, Evan. Listen, I’ve gotta tell you someth-”

 **“Uncle Owen,”** the cracked, broken sound of his name coming from his nephew’s side of the phone gave him pause. He’d never heard the kid sound so defeated, and he’d seen him through a lot of years and a lot of disasters.

The sound of sobs croaking from somewhere deep in Evan’s chest, coupled with harsh, panicked breaths had Owen sitting up in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his eyes sweeping over the form of his peacefully sleeping son. Afraid that he’d wake T.K., Owen gently rose from the chair and stepped outside into the hall, keeping an eye on his boy through the window. “Evan, what is it? What’s wrong, kid?”

**“Uncle Owen, I…I think I need your help.”**


	2. I Can't Find Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Evan's past with the Strands, Part One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started off more than twice its size and I realized it was getting too far away from me to be one chapter. So, here is the first of two chapters that will focus on some of Evan's origins with the Strand family. Both this chapter and the next will consist mostly, if not entirely, of flashback events--hence the italics. Assume for now that italics equal past events; I doubt I'll change that formatting choice, but if I do, I'll be sure to provide a heads up. 
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> I'm not really sure where this fic is going or how long it will last, so I can't really say what sort of uploading schedule I'll have. I'm aiming for a minimum of a chapter a week, but it could be more depending on how loud the muses scream at me.
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> As usual, I own no part of the 9-1-1 or 9-1-1: Lone Star universe, outside of my own delusions. Thank you for reading!
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_“Uncle Owen, I think I need your help. I can’t find TK; he was supposed to meet me over an hour ago, but he never showed up.”_

_Owen Strand almost always forgot Evan Buckley was his nephew and not his son. Considering the way TK and Evan were nearly inseparable whenever they were together, which was as often as they could be, it wasn’t hard to confuse him for a Strand._

_Knowing what he did about his sister, the relationship she and her husband—a man he’d never truly cared for—had with Evan, saw Owen bringing the kid to Manhattan every chance he got to spend time with the Strand family._

_Julia Strand Buckley was never the same after 9/11, having lost her first husband, Killian, along with most of the man’s squad at Ladder 391, in the very same disaster that had cost Owen much of his own firehouse family. Owen did the best he could, lending support to his sister and her children while trying to hold his own life together._

_Unfortunately, Owen didn’t just fail at keeping his marriage in one piece; he failed at keeping his family together too. Less than a year after the attacks that tore his whole world apart, Julia had seemingly lost herself along with Killian. She’d become more of a hollowed-out version of herself, marrying a man, Marcus Adaire, who seemed less-than-interested in the two children that came along with his sister. Fortunately, Maddie was already grown and off at college by that point, so she wasn’t too harmed by this particular adjustment, but little Evan was still well under foot and feeling the changes in his household._

_It didn’t take Owen long to realize his sister hadn’t just lost her husband that day; she’d also lost the best parts of herself. He could see it in the ways Maddie stayed away, in the ways Julia refused to answer any questions regarding her wellbeing or the state of things in her home, and in the ways Evan’s smiles became fewer and farther between—until they’d almost disappeared completely._

_Owen took the kid in as often as he could; practically anytime he had TK, he’d also have Evan. Julia and Marcus never objected, and it pained Owen to know that his sister had become so far removed from herself and her once-loved role as a mother._

_The day Owen overheard Evan ask TK what it was like to have a mother who still loved him, even without his father around her, tore a hole open in Owen he wasn’t sure could ever be filled._

_When the remaining members of the Buckley-Adaire family—so named because little Evan refused to give up his lifelong attachment to Killian’s legacy by changing his name—up and moved to Hershey, PA on little more than Marcus’s whim, Owen couldn’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t try and stop them from taking the 12-year old boy with them. He knew it was a ludicrous thought; according to his ex-wife, he barely had enough time for his own son, let alone trying to handle a second._

_Even after accepting this hard truth, Owen couldn’t help but feel like he was letting the kid down by letting him go._

_Knowing what TK’s relationship with Evan meant to his son and vice versa, Owen did the next best thing he could. He gave his nephew a prepaid cell phone with 1000 minutes queued in and told him to call whenever he needed to. Be it for a chance to just talk or for Owen to send him a train ticket back to Manhattan, Evan’s calls would never go unanswered._

_And for the next six years, not a single call went ignored, train ticket receipts became common wallet liners for Owen, and TK spent as much time with his cousin and best friend as he could._

_Until today._

_“What do you mean he never showed up, kid?” Evan may be an adult by legal standards now, but it didn’t stop his only uncle from still using his childhood nickname. “Where are you?”_

_“I’m at the new bubble tea place on 15 th near McCarren Park. TK told me last night he wanted to try it—you know how he is with tapioca. But I wanted to call Maddie and stop at the library this morning beforehand. TK said he had an errand to run in the Heights anyway, and he promised to meet me at one.” _

_Owen checked his watch and grimaced—nearly three. “And he hasn’t called?”_

_“No, and he won’t pick up his phone when I call him. It rings and rings and rings, then goes to voicemail.” Owen can practically hear the way Evan is trying to maintain his cool and keep his breaths leveled despite the obvious anxiety he’s feeling. “Uncle Owen, he’s never late and he always answers his phone. What if something happened to him?”_

_Despite his nephew’s faith in TK, Owen couldn’t help but think about how wrong Evan was about TK lately. He hadn’t mentioned it, of course, but TK’s behavior was getting more erratic by the week. He’d been late for curfew more often than not, didn’t always pick up when Owen called, and he’d been more than evasive about his whereabouts. He knew at sixteen, kids were prone to acting out, especially children of divorce and tragedy like TK, but Owen was starting to worry there wasn’t something more serious going on._

_Voicing these concerns to himself out loud led Owen to offering Evan the option to stay with him and TK for his entire summer before college in September. He hoped his always-responsible nephew’s presence would be a good influence on TK the way it always had been before._

_And for the past three weeks, it’d seemed to work. Until today._

_“Okay, kid, take a breath for me. I’m sure everything is just fine with TK.” Owen tried to conceal his own concern and skepticism from leaking out in his words. “He probably just got hung up with whatever he was doing and lost track of time.”_

_Doing his best to sound as reassuring as possible for his nephew, Owen stood from his desk and started shuffling papers around, looking for his keys. “It’s going to be okay, Evan. I’m going to try calling him, maybe his mother, and a couple of people I know who may be able to help. We’ll find him. It’s not like New York is a big city or anything, huh?”_

_The sound of his nephew’s light and somewhat-relieved laugh brought a small smile to his face—despite the situation. “What do you want me to do, Uncle Owen?”_

_Owen smiled again; there was the Evan Buckley he knew, son and nephew of firemen, always ready to jump into the flames to make an assist. “Keep trying to call him and head for the apartment. Ask if any of the neighbors have seen him and, if not, hang out there for a while. If he comes home, you can let me know and I’ll come home and wring his neck for worrying us.”_

_Trying not to wince at his use of the word “if”, Owen listened for a few minutes more while Evan reassured him he’d do as Owen asked, and that he’d check all of TK’s usual haunts along the way. Thanking his nephew again for his forethought, Owen told him to be safe on his way before hanging up._

_He dialed another number and quickly brought the phone back to his ear, waiting three rings before hearing, “Detective Marks?”_

_“Isaac, hey, it’s Owen. I’ve got a problem.”_

_“Hey, man, what’s going on?”_

_“It’s TK. He’s missing, Isaac. Evan, my nephew, just called and told me he never showed up to meet him at some new tea place on 15 th in Williamsburg.”_

_“Okay, Owen,” he could hear Isaac flipping open a notebook, probably already committing everything Owen had told him to memory. Owen and Isaac had been friends for several years and had worked in adjacent fields for even longer. He was a good detective and, ironically, specialized in missing persons. “Last known location? Time? And do you know what he was wearing?”_

_Trying to remember what his kid had been dressed in before he left for work that morning, Owen quickly rattled off what he knew. “He was at the apartment this morning with Ev and told him he had an errand to run in the Heights. They were going to meet somewhere on 15 th at one, but I’m not sure what time Evan left to go to the library this morning. Maybe 10? 11? TK was in black jeans and a white t-shirt with some kind of band on it. The Killers, maybe?” _

_“That’s great, Owen, it’s a place to start. I’ve got TK’s ID photo pulled up; I’ll print it off and take a few guys over to the Heights. See if anyone has seen him or anyone who looks like him. Do you want me to give you a call if we find him?”_

_‘If again,’ Owen thought to himself. “Please do. I’m going to try calling his mother and a few other people, see if they’ve seen or heard from him. If no one has, I’ll meet you downtown and help look.”_

_“Alright, Owen. I’ll let you know what comes up. Keep your phone handy.”_

_“I always do. Thanks, Isaac.”_

_After hanging up with Isaac, Owen paced around his office calling his ex-wife—what a fun conversation that was—and parents of a few of TK’s friends. No one had seen his son, but they all promised to keep an eye out. Gwenyth was livid with him, of course, and assured him she’d keep calling TK as well as a few other people she knew who may have seen him_

_The longer Owen paced and the more negative responses he’d received regarding TK, the worse his feeling of anxiety grew. He couldn’t help but feel like his son was in trouble; call it fatherly intuition, something Gwen swore he never actually possessed, but he could feel in his bones that something was horribly wrong._

_After hanging up with yet another family friend who hadn’t seen TK, Owen decided he couldn’t stay in the office anymore, and ran out of the station. He’d always believed having a car in New York City was foolish, but it came with the job and for once he was grateful. Firing off a quick text response to Evan’s “He’s still not here” text, Owen pulled the vehicle out of the small station parking lot and took off for downtown Brooklyn._

_Another 20 minutes passed before he finally made it across town and not for the first time in his life, Owen cursed the traffic of his home city. He drove around a few blocks, eyes scanning the street for his son’s familiar head of chestnut hair. He might’ve felt foolish looking for anyone else’s kid this way, it was practically like finding a needle in a haystack, but this wasn’t just any kid. This was his son._

_Just as he’d parked on a side street and was about to get out of his car to do a sweep through a few of the nearby stores and restaurants, Owen’s phone rang. Seeing Isaac’s name on the caller ID sent a thrum of anxiety through his bones and he tried to ignore the feeling as he pressed the ‘answer’ button. “Isaac?”_

_“Owen, we got him. But, he’s…”_

_Owen was glad he’d parked his SUV before answering. With the way his hands had started trembling, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to brake properly, let alone parallel park. He felt his heart seize in his chest, and he brokenly stuttered out, “No. He’s…he’s not.”_

_“He’s alive. Owen, your son is alive. But it’s—it’s not good. You’ve got to get to BHC as soon as possible. Can you do that? Or do I need to send a car for you?”_

_Hearing that TK, his son, was blessedly alive, but that it also wasn’t good sent a flaming chill through his entire body. It was almost oxymoronic how he could feel searing heat and freezing cold at the same time. “I can—I can get there. I’m five minutes out.”_

_“Come through the ER. Room 417. I’ll meet you there.”_

_Owen barely muttered a ‘thank you’ before he was dropping his phone on the passenger seat and whipping his car out of the alley. Driving in Brooklyn was never an easy feat with the traffic, but Owen slammed his hand down on his lightbar control and used the advantage his emergency lights provided to get him to the hospital—to his son—that much faster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm anticipating the next chapter being at or about double the length of this one. I know I'm handing you a lot of exposition before this story really starts to kick off, but I'm a writer who loves a good prologue! I'm still not fully up to speed with my brain on where these people will end up (not to mention who they'll end up with!), so I appreciate you all coming along for the ride. 
> 
> I expect the next chapter to be up within a few days' time at most! Thank you again for reading!


	3. We Endure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TK has been found, but in what state? And how will Owen tell the rest of his family, especially his nephew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for any comments, kudos, or criticism! I'm always open to thoughts or suggestions, so please don't be shy with them. 
> 
> Also, please be wary of the tags. Without giving too much away, there are some heavier themes implied/discussed. There aren't any graphic descriptions, but depending on your comfort level, it could be slightly triggering. Take care of yourselves and use your judgement. 
> 
> Sadly, I do not own 9-1-1 or 9-1-1: Lone Star, so I'll just sit here with my delusions while you hopefully enjoy this chapter!  
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_He’d told Isaac five minutes; he made it in three._

_Parking haphazardly in the first available space he could find outside the ER, Owen tore through the entrance of the hospital, whipping his head around until he could find a sign directing him to the right wing. The receptionist seemed surprised by his whirlwind entrance, but before she could address it, an NYPD officer greeted him. “Captain Strand, I’m Officer Burke. I was told to wait for you.”_

_The policeman couldn’t have been much older than Evan, a head of short, inky hair over green eyes and a soft layer of stubble on his chin. Owen ignored the solemn look on his face. “Where is he? Where’s TK?”_

_“This way, sir,” Officer Burke said, before motioning down a hall to their left. He led Owen through several wings and around a few corners, none of which Owen would remember later, before coming across Isaac standing near a room door._

_“Isaac?”_

_“Hey, Owen,” the detective stopped him before he could get within sight of the room’s windows, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you, Officer Burke. I’ve got it from here.”_

_The young man nodded politely at the dismissal, gave another soft tip of his head to Owen, and was gone._

_Looking back at Isaac, Owen couldn’t ignore the grim expression on his friend’s face. He wondered why he’d been stopped before going into what he assumed was TK’s room, and he felt his heart plummet in his chest again. “You said he was alive. What happened to my kid, Isaac?”_

_“Do you want to sit down, Owen?” Isaac must’ve seen something on Owen’s face that was response enough. He sighed and continued, “He was found in an empty apartment by the waterfront. An anonymous call to dispatch, he was—he was in rough shape, Owen. By the time the bus arrived, he was in cardiac arrest; they don’t know for how long. But they hit him with the Evzio, and we got him back.”_

_“Evzio? You’re saying my son overdosed?” Owen couldn’t believe the words had even come from his mouth._

_“Prescription drug cannisters and other paraphernalia were found at the scene. It also looks like he may have gotten into some sort of fight; he’s pretty banged up, and there was trace evidence of blood.”_

_Owen felt his eyes fall closed and he brought his hands to his face. He tried to pretend the tears threatening to escape weren’t a direct result of his son getting into fights or almost overdosing to death. He wanted to scream, to hit something._

_He couldn’t believe after everything his son had been through that Owen had let this happen._

_“Owen, TK is alive. You have to remember that. The doctors aren’t sure what length of time he may have gone without oxygen or how his brain functioning could be affected. But he’s alive and he’s breathing on his own. That’s a very good sign; you know that.”_

_Owen did know that, but the platitudes felt hollow all the same. He found himself nodding silently before looking at his friend, grief and self-loathing barely contained. “Thank you, Isaac, for finding my boy. I’ll—uh—I’ve got to…” Owen tried to motion around Isaac, to express his intention to go to TK, but his brain felt like it wasn’t connecting to the rest of his body. Everything was muddled in a way Owen had never experienced before._

_Isaac seemed to catch on and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Go on, Owen. See your boy. Everything else can wait. Is there anything else I can do? Anything you need?”_

_Suddenly, Owen was reminded that Gwen still had no idea where TK was, that Evan had no idea. “I—his mother, Gwen. She still doesn’t know where he is. And Evan, my nephew, he’s been—he’s been trying to find him all day. I have to—” Owen needed to get them here, but he couldn’t leave TK, not now._

_Once again, Isaac seemed to sense his distress, watching as Owen struggled between staying with his boy and taking responsibility for bringing the rest of his family here. Isaac put a stop to Owen’s panic and reassured him he’d bring Gwen and Evan both to the hospital. Owen made him promise not to tell them what happened aside from TK being found alive._

_“I need to tell them myself,” Owen insisted._

_With another nod of agreement and a pat on the back, Isaac took his leave. Owen wiped another hand down his face, attempting to steel his courage as he proceeded the last few feet to his son’s hospital room._

_The sight of TK through the glass had Owen sucking in his breath in a rush, fear and grief washing over him again, before he lifted a shaking hand to the door. Stepping into the room and sliding the door shut with a soft ‘whoosh’, Owen couldn’t ignore how small his son looked layered beneath the blankets of the enormous hospital bed. TK wasn’t exactly small for a sixteen-year-old, but nobody in the Strand family was a giant either. This bed seemed to only exaggerate TK’s slighter frame._

_Or perhaps it was just Owen once again seeing his son as that seven-year-old boy who needed to be sheltered from the inhumanities of life._

_Forcing himself to step lightly over the sterile hospital tiles, afraid he’d make too much noise and disturb his son, Owen dropped slowly into the seat beside the head of the bed. Sweeping his eyes over TK’s face, taking in bruises along his jaw, a black eye, and split lip, Owen felt the pang of guilt and sorrow spear his chest once more._

_“Oh, TK…what’d you do, son?”_

_Owen ran his hands down his face again, pressing against his eyes harshly to fend off the threat of further moisture, before leaning forward in his seat. “How could I let this happen to you? I should’ve known…should’ve seen something. Why didn’t I…”_

_Sighing, Owen knew the answer to that. Not for the first time since the Towers came down, he wondered if Gwen was right and he really did always put his job before his family. He could justify to himself all he wanted that the 252 was also his family, but it was hard to make a comparison when his own flesh and blood was lying near-dead in a hospital ward._

_“I guess you and I both know there’s a lot I don’t notice about you these days, huh son?”_

_Owen gently cupped his hand to TK’s jaw, taking in the rough scrape of stubble growing there, before sliding it up through his hair. He brushed away a few loose strands hanging over TK’s forehead, and took a moment to appreciate that—even with the trauma to his face and the overdose—his beautiful son was thankfully still here. Alive._

_Giving a brief glance over the monitors, making sure everything seemed to be beeping and tracking as it should be, Owen accepted the soft reassurance of TK’s living status, before checking his chest to be sure it was rising and falling the way it should be. Once he was as satisfied as he could be, he let his hands slip from his son’s head before grasping tightly to the teenager’s hand while being cautious of the bruises and splits around his knuckles._

_“It’s going to be okay, TK. I’m here, and your mom and Evan are on their way. They’ll be here with you soon. And we’ll fix this, I promise. It’s going to be okay.”_

_Owen wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure TK or himself. ‘Probably both,’ he reasoned to himself._

_Raising his eyes back to TK’s face, he willed his son to wake, to return from wherever it was in his head he’d retreated to. “Come back to me, son.” When no response came, Owen could only squeeze his son’s hand that much tighter._

_He didn’t know how much time passed while he sat there burning a hole through TK’s face with his eyes. It could have been minutes, days, or eons that Owen sat there waiting for a change in his son’s expression. His brain felt like it was still cloaked in a fog, uncertain of anything outside the subtle inhales and exhales._

_Eventually, the clouds around his mind did dissipate. But it wasn’t TK that had Owen emerging from beneath the depths of emotion he’d let himself sink._

_It was the sound of pounding feet, heavy breathing, and a cry of “TK! Uncle Owen!” that had the exhausted fire captain whipping his head to the door of his son’s room. Within seconds, the pounding feet had reached them and the door all but slammed wide with the force of Evan’s sliding it open. The kid didn’t even turn to make sure the door hadn’t broken or even just closed again behind him._

_The sight of his young cousin seemed to stop Evan cold, and Owen couldn’t stand the haunted look gracing his nephew’s normally happy exterior._

_“He’s alive, Evan. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s alive.”_

_“Uncle Owen, I—”_

_“It’s okay, kid. It’ll all be okay. Come here and sit.”_

_Owen slid over the second chair beside him and motioned for his nephew to join him. It seemed to take Evan a small eternity to cross the threshold of the room, but when he finally did, he collapsed almost boneless into the uncomfortable hospital chair. He hesitated before placing a hand on TK’s leg, obviously needing some form of connection to his previously missing cousin, before turning to stare at Owen. “What happened?”_

_Turning to look at Evan, Owen was both grateful Isaac had kept his word and utterly at a loss for how he was going to tell his nephew. ‘Facts, not fiction, I’d always promised him,’ he thought._

_“Dispatch took a call about a person in danger at an apartment by the waterfront. He…he’d been in a fight of some kind. And he, he was—” Owen tried to gather the courage to say it out loud. Unable to look his nephew in the eye, he turned to TK again. “He was in cardiac arrest. Overdosed on prescription opioids.”_

_The sharp intake of breath was not unexpected, but Evan’s broken “No…” seemed to rip a whole new piece of Owen’s heart out. “TK…I’m so sorry.”_

_Owen raised the hand that wasn’t holding TK’s to Evan’s shoulder and pulled him into a soft side hug. “He’s going to be okay, Evan. We got him back, and he’s-he’s going to be fine.”_

_He hoped the kid didn’t notice his slight hesitation, his uncertainty, or the way Owen was unable to look him in the eye while he said it._

_Evan’s breath hitched again, and it sounded like he was trying his damndest not to cry. His bright blue eyes hadn’t left TK’s face since he’d stumbled into the room. “This is all my fault.”_

_Owen inhaled sharply and turned his head to look at his nephew. “What? Evan, no, why would you think that?”_

_“Because,” his nephew sounded so broken, it pained Owen. “I left him alone. If I hadn’t wasted time going to the library or calling Maddie this morning, he wouldn’t have gone there. This never would have happened.”_

_Evan punctuated his last sentence with another clench of TK’s leg, while his other hand formed a tight fist. Owen couldn’t stand the way Evan was blaming himself for something he wasn’t responsible for, something he couldn’t have even prepared for._

_“Evan, kid, look at me.” Owen grasped his nephew by the shoulders and turned him to look him in the eyes. “This—this isn’t your fault. Not even close, okay? If anything,” Owen glanced at TK again before inhaling deeply. “If anything, it’s my fault. For not paying attention. For not noticing what was wrong with my son. For not telling you the truth.”_

_When his nephew tilted his head in confusion, Owen grimaced in shame. “TK, he’s had some trouble, Evan. Broken curfew, lied to me and his mother, doesn’t always tell me where he is. I wanted to believe it was nothing, but it’s obvious now that was a mistake.” He dropped his head to stare at his lap, still clinging to his nephew’s shoulders and absorbing the hopeful essence the kid always radiated even now in these worst of circumstances._

_They sat that way for a few seconds before Owen lifted his head to stare at Evan again. Gently cupping his left hand to Evan’s face, he confessed the truth. “Half the reason I brought you here was the hope that you could bring TK out of whatever state he’d fallen into. You’re such a good influence on him and he’s always so happy whenever you’re around. I guess I thought you being here for more than just a few days’ time would make things…normal again.”_

_A hollow look crossed his nephew’s features before Evan turned to look at TK once more. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work…that my being here hasn’t made a difference for him.”_

_"_ _No, Evan, no. You don’t understand; it has made all the difference. You saved TK’s life tonight.” The kid turned back to him, obviously confused again. “Without you calling me? Telling me TK was missing? I would’ve had no idea to go look for him. I would’ve been at work and not thought twice about what TK might be doing if he didn’t answer me right away. I’d have assumed he was just busy doing who knows what. And by the time I’d have figured out something was wrong and gone looking,” Owen sighed softly in resignation before finishing his confession. “TK would probably be dead.”_

_Admitting that out loud, the tragic thoughts that had been circling Owen’s mind since he’d set foot in the hospital, sent shockwaves of guilt and failure through him again. So severe was the weight of his confession, he almost missed the shattered look crossing his nephew’s face. The thought of TK dead made Owen want to die himself, but he also knew anything happening to TK would devastate Evan in a way even he probably couldn’t comprehend._

_“You saved my son, Evan. You’re a hero.”_

_The reverence in Owen’s words were apparently too much for Evan because the kid finally broke down in tears, falling into his Uncle’s arms and sobbing brokenly into his chest. Owen just let it happen, brushing his hand through Evan’s curly locks and doing his best to remain solid in the face of his nephew’s breakdown._

_The two men remained locked in the embrace for a few minutes more until Evan’s crying subsided. When they finally parted, Owen turned back to stare at TK’s monitors again, giving his nephew a minute to collect himself and wipe his red eyes dry. Evan cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the chair, grasping onto TK’s shin once more._

_“So…what do we do now?”_

_Owen gripped his son’s arm with one hand and latched onto Evan’s shoulder with another, his gaze never leaving TK. “We endure, Evan. We wait and we endure, whatever happens next.”_

_Just then, the hurried sound of heels clicking down the hospital hallway, followed by a rushed, “Where is he? Where’s my son?!” met their ears._

_“But first,” Owen closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I have to tell your aunt.”_

_Both men turned to face the door just as it slid open in a rush of air, and the copper haired force of nature that was Gwenyth Strand stormed into the room._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this insight into TK's first overdose. I've always wondered how that could have happened and when I couldn't get this idea out of my head, I decided to include it as a big bonding moment for Evan and Owen. I also wanted to show a bit of where Evan's need to be a hero and trying to help or be responsible for everyone could have come from, so this is kind of a bit of the origins I'm setting up for that. I know the Owen of this chapter might seem a tad OOC, but I tried to put myself in the headspace of Owen in a situation he'd never anticipate or believe he'd have to deal with. It's not happened to me personally, but I know there is often a lot of guilt for parents when it comes to their children OD-ing, and I wanted to softly explore a bit of that with Owen here. I hope I did well on both fronts, despite the heaviness of the subject matter!
> 
> I was planning for this to be a much longer chapter, but it started to get away from me again. So, I decided to keep the flashback separate from the rest, so the next chapter will return to the present and the conversation between Uncle Owen and Evan. I wonder what will happen?
> 
> Come back in a few days' time to find out!


	4. Fact, Fiction, & Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In present time, Evan confesses to Owen what's been happening in LA and how it's rocked his confidence. Owen makes a great realization about his and TK's lives and makes Evan an offer the younger man may not be able to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the next chapter! This fic is flowing out of me like water and I still have no idea where it's going to end up! Hopefully you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! 
> 
> Once again, any pieces of the 9-1-1 universe do not belong to me. I just enjoy playing in their sandboxes. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you love the new update! But, if there's something you don't love, come yell at me in the comments! It's open either way, but be kind to each other!  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

**“Uncle Owen? Are you still there?”**

His nephew’s voice called Owen out of the stupor of the past he’d found himself thrust into. Shaking his head to loosen the cobwebs, he stared through the glass at his sleeping son and found it almost ironic that he was back here again. In the same hospital. In the same situation. And yet, Evan wasn’t here to help him prop TK back up again.

Owen almost wished he was, if only because TK might listen better if Evan was the one talking to him.

“Yeah, kid. I’m still here. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Evan chuckled darkly from the other end of the line; his voice rough from the sobs Owen could still hear in his throat. **“Not really, no. I’m uh—I’m not doing so hot, Uncle Owen. Things have been…things haven’t been too good over here.”**

Owen hated the resigned tone he could hear in Evan’s voice. The kid was usually so full of life; to hear him sound so defeated was not like his nephew at all.

Evan hadn’t talked to him or TK—as far as he knew—much in the past few months, but Owen had assumed it was because he was getting back into the swing of things with the 118 again. Owen figured after all the crap with the truck bombing, the embolisms, and the tsunami, Evan just needed time to acclimate and find his footing with the team again. He knew what it was like for a fireman to need more support and time with their team after a life-altering disaster—let alone three—above anyone else.

So why did Evan sound so devastated?

“What’s been going on, Evan? Is it the job? I thought things were going good?”

**“Well, I thought they were…or maybe I was just hoping they’d get there. But it’s been—it’s been rough, Uncle Owen. The team, they—”**

Owen heard the hesitation and considering the direction this conversation seemed to be heading, he almost didn’t want to know what his nephew’s team had been doing to make him sound as crushed as he did. “What’s the team doing, kid?”

**“They—”** Evan heaved a deep sigh, and the tears that seemed to have slowed crackled in his voice again. **“They treat me like…like I’m stupid. Like I have no idea what I’m doing. They make these comments, Uncle Owen, and they—they criticize every move I make. When I’m on calls, they make me second guess everything, and when we get back to the House, they repeat everything I did wrong over and over.”**

If Owen thought his nephew’s sobs were difficult enough, hearing him talk about the way his own team had turned so forcefully against him made him see red. But before he could get a word out, Evan continued his confessional.

**“And the worst part is, I don’t know if they’re right or wrong! I don’t know anything anymore. If everything I do is wrong, how can I even be a good firefighter? I must not be, right? I mean, they’re my team, my family. Families are supposed to make each other better, so they must only be saying all these things because they want me to be the best firefighter I can be, right?”**

“Evan—”

**“I always thought I was a good firefighter. That this was the only thing I was good at, saving people and fixing problems and helping where I could. But Cap and Hen and E—Eddie, they wouldn’t have to correct me all the time if I was good at being a firefighter. So, so maybe it’s not what I’m meant to be. Maybe I shouldn’t be a firefighter anymore if I really can’t do anything right.”**

Owen briefly noted in the back of his head that Evan’s list of teammates criticizing his efforts didn’t include Maddie’s boyfriend, Chimney. The Strands had never been as close to Maddie as they had Evan, but she was still his niece. She was still family.

He’d tried keeping in touch when she was married to her piece of garbage husband, but Doug hadn’t so much as permitted a phone call from Evan, let alone the Strands.

Owen and TK had both been grateful when Doug and her marriage had finally been removed from the picture. After that, he and his son’s regular visits to LA included a stop to see Maddie as well. It made Owen happy to see his niece and nephew close again and their small little family that much more whole again.

Filing away the evidence of Chimney’s possible support, Owen realized his nephew had never stopped his tirade against himself and was working his way into a full-blown panic attack.

“Evan! Kid, you’ve gotta calm down. Take a breath for me.”

He heard his nephew’s rant stop immediately and Owen exaggerated a few deep breaths, trying to get Evan to calm down. After a few minutes, Owen thought seriously about what he might say next. He figured Evan was feeling pretty vulnerable, and the wrong thing could set off another panic attack.

“Alright, how’re you feeling, kid? Just in this moment, not everywhere else?”

**“I’m—I think I’m okay. Just right now. My chest hurts, but I think it’s from all the crying. I haven’t really let anything out to anyone in a long time. I forgot what it felt like to…I don’t know, let something go without worrying what someone might say back to me.”**

“Well, you know me, Evan. I only give you facts, not fiction. Do you want to hear some of those right now?”

**“God, yes. Please. More than anything.”**

“Alright, Ev.” Owen took a deep breath and pressed his hand to the glass of his son’s hospital room, eager for something to ground him while he tried to keep his nephew grounded too. “Fact: you are a damn good firefighter. One of the best I’ve ever seen. You were born to do this. Hell, it’s in your blood! You come from firemen, and we all knew this was the only thing you’d ever want to be or do.”

Owen paused, trying to decide what his next statement should be. He knew he had to be careful with Evan right now; the wrong piece of information could send the kid right off in the wrong direction. His nephew always felt things in the extreme, but right now was the time for caution.

“Fiction: You’re stupid or you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s the most ludicrous thing about you I’ve ever heard. I was at your college graduation. Magna Cum Laude if I’m not mistaken? You passed your original certifications with flying colors, and you told me yourself that you broke records at your recertification after the bombing. You’re a firefighter who can handle almost any kind of rescue a situation calls for. You’re practically prepared—at all times—for anything and everything. You, Evan Buckley, are not stupid.”

Giving Evan time to let his statements sink in, Owen was pleased to hear that his nephew’s sobs had seemed to dissipate to a slow leak. He only hoped that Evan was benefitting from what he was saying, rather than being hurt by it. Knowing that he had to keep going, Owen clenched his hand around his phone and girded himself for the next thing he had to say, knowing it didn’t just apply to Evan’s situation.

“Fact: Families are supposed to make each other better, but it doesn’t mean they always do a good job of it. Sometimes they—” Owen looked at the Holter monitor in his son’s room, watched TK’s inhales and exhales, and was reminded of how he’d failed his son again just like the 118 was failing Buck. “Sometimes they say or do the wrong things. Sometimes they don’t say anything. And sometimes, when one or all of those things happen, they fail the people who need them the most.”

This time, Owen gave himself a minute to let the truth of his words sink into his own head. Before Evan’s call, he’d been thinking this very thing: that he’d failed his son. That he’d need to do something to fix all this. He thought he had, years ago when this happened the first time.

But it occurred to Owen, holding TK tightly to his chest earlier today in his apartment and then later watching him sleep in his hospital bed, that something happened to make it all go wrong. He wasn’t sure where or why, but things with TK were off kilter again, and Owen knew he needed to fix it.

Before this afternoon, he hadn’t planned on considering Chief Radford’s offer about Austin. Owen meant what he said; his whole life was in New York. His House, his son, everything. But, once again, TK’s actions—and now Evan’s words—had thrown a monkey wrench into his plans. It occurred to Owen that New York and the 252 may be home, but his son was his life. His family, TK and Evan, were his life, his legacy.

Finding out he had cancer had probably helped put things in perspective a bit too.

From the time he woke up this morning, it seemed like life had been trying to tell him something. He’d never been big on signs or fate or anything like that, but, if the universe really did want him to tune into what was most important, now might be a good time for Owen to listen up.

With that notion in mind, a plan started to form in Owen’s head. A plan, Owen realized, that could begin with his nephew.

“Evan, let me ask you something. Did you hear about that tragedy down in Austin, Texas? With Ladder 126?”

His nephew sounded like he was sniffing away the last of his tears that seemed to have finally stopped. Owen could picture him rubbing away at his eyes the way he always did when he cried, before his nephew cleared his throat and answered his question. **“Uh—y—yeah. I did. The factory explosion, right? They lost everyone?”**

“Yeah, yeah they did. All except one.”

**“When I saw it reminded me of what happened to you with the 252. The Lone Survivor. But, why are you asking me about that, Uncle Owen?”**

“Well, actually, it kind of has to do with what you just said.” Evan made a confused noise, but Owen kept going before he could interrupt. “The Deputy Chief of the Austin FD came to see me today. He wants me to come to Austin and rebuild the 126 the way I did the 252.”

**“Oh, wow, Uncle Owen. That’s—that’s amazing. I can’t believe out of all the fire captains in America, they want you for that. I mean, not that you can’t do it, obviously, but that’s incredible.”** Owen was pleased to hear the first genuine smile in Evan’s voice. **“But, wait, what about TK? New York? The 252?”**

‘And here comes the hard part,’ Owen thought to himself. He looked in on TK again, still sleeping, before he gripped the window ledge before him. “I wasn’t going to take the job. I actually turned it down, but something happened today, Evan. Something that, along with what you’ve told me, has me wondering if I should change my mind.”

**“What happened, Uncle Owen?”**

Owen pinched his eyes shut, trying to find the strength to say the words out loud again for the second time in his life. “It’s TK, Evan. He overdosed again this morning.”

He could practically feel his nephew’s sharp intake of breath, could almost see the way he’d be vibrating with anxiety, could hear the way his fists clenched in fear. **“Is—is he alive?”**

“He’s alive, Evan. Sleeping right now, but he’s alive and physically seems healthy. Mentally I’m not sure where his head is at; we haven’t gotten a chance to really talk yet.”

**“What do you want me to do?”**

It never ceased to amaze him the way his nephew was so selfless, so willing to up and do what he could for his nephew—for his family. Owen wasn’t about to take advantage of that; this had to be his choice.

“It’s not about what I want, kid. It’s about what you want.”

It was then Owen realize he’d made his decision. He’d call Chief Radford and tell him he changed his mind. If Austin wanted him, they could have him. But if Owen was going to do this, it would mean bringing TK along with him. And if he was going to take TK out of New York, why shouldn’t Evan—a damn good, record-setting firefighter, come with them if he wanted it? If the 126 needed a new team, he’d give them the best damn House Austin had ever seen.

“I’m going to say yes to Austin, Evan, and I’m going to take TK with me. I won’t leave him here in this city; I can’t. The question is, do you want to come with us?”

Evan’s shock was slight, but powerful. It pained Owen to think his nephew would doubt himself so much that he’d be surprised to be offered a job somewhere else. **“You mean, you want me? To come to Austin and—and help you?”**

That his team had messed with his head so thoroughly he could think he was anything less than a brilliant firefighter was a crime in Owen’s eyes. “Yeah, kid, but I don’t just want you to help me. I want you to help TK, and the Austin FD, and the 126, and everyone in Austin who may need a little saving. I’m not sure if the great state of Texas is ready for me, but I know my job will be a little bit easier and done twice as well if I’ve got my two best firefighters along for the ride.”

Owen knew his nephew had always wanted the chance to work with him but being a firefighter in New York had been too painful for Evan to consider. He’d almost tried for it, but the memories of his father’s death made a prospective NYFD job hit a little too close to home. There was also Evan’s distaste for the frequent cold weather of the East Coast. Convincing the kid to stay in New York after college had been impossible, but maybe the warmth of Texas—along with the proximity of the Strand Family—could be enough to entice him.

“You don’t have to decide tonight if—”

**“No, it’s okay. I—I think I’d like that. Working with you and TK. Being a part of a family again.”**

**"** Kid, you’ve always been a part of this family.” Owen smiled softly at the new future that was starting to come together for him and his boys. He looked up and noticed TK had started to fidget in his bed, slowly emerging from the deep sleep he’d been put in when he arrived at the hospital hours earlier. “Listen, kid, your cousin is starting to wake up, so I have to head back in to him. Are you on shift right now?”

**“Yeah, near the end. I’m done in a few hours and I’m off tomorrow.”**

“Alright, good. Here’s what you’re going to do. I want you to finish up your shift, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. I’m going to call the Deputy Chief in Austin tomorrow and accept the job. After that, we’ll all start packing and we’ll get a formal transfer put in for you. They’ll most likely want us in Austin within days or a few short weeks. Do you need help moving your stuff?”

**“No, I—I don’t have much to move, but I may need some time to find an apartment once we get there.”**

“Alright, we’ll worry about that when the time comes, and if anything, you always have a home with us, kid. Let’s just focus on getting there first. One thing at a time, huh?”

**“Yeah, I—yeah. Okay, one thing at a time.”** Owen could practically see his nephew nodding his agreement, but he still sounded hesitant.

“Tell you what, Ev, I’ll give you a call tomorrow after I talk to the Chief. We can discuss everything else again after and make a plan, okay?”

**“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.”** Just then, an alarm sounded from somewhere on Evan’s side of the phone, and Owen could hear his feet crunching quickly over gravel. **“I have to go; the alarm is going off. But, Uncle Owen, thank you. Thank you for doing this for me. You—you don’t know what it means.”**

“I think I have an idea, kid,” Owen replied, unable to take his eyes off his son as he started to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. “You be safe, and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

**“Okay, Uncle Owen, you too. Give TK a hug for me.”**

“I always do.”

With that, both men hung up on their respective sides of the country, each filled with tentative excitement for what tomorrow would bring them. And while Evan suited up and hoped that things would finally be okay again, Owen stepped into his son’s hospital room and hoped that he’d finally be able to fix things for good this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love any critiques, comments, or ideas you have to share! I only learn what works from you all telling me, good or bad! I'm currently in the midst of the next chapter and I'm definitely open to suggestions for what readers may want to see in this fic. It comes to me as I type, so I have room for all sorts of new ideas and characters. 
> 
> Look for the next update within a day or two!


	5. Don't Take It With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck's preparations for moving lead him to advice he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Sorry for the delay on this one, but this chapter really escaped me and I had a hard time finding a place to stop! I know I promised Maddie, Chim, and the rest of the 118 being told in this chapter...but, I'm sorry to say you'll have to wait for the next one! The muses ended up coming up with a big scene at the end of this chapter and I felt like it needed to be seen on its own. Don't worry though! Maddie and Chim, and the rest of the 118, is coming immediately following this chapter. 
> 
> I also want to quickly mention, I know that Buck may seem a tad OOC in my fic especially with how he talks or thinks. I've never liked how the show plays him off as the dumber of the two Buckley siblings—it actually bugs the crap out of me. So, for the fic, I'll be writing Buck as the intelligent, protective, mature individual I'm convinced he is. Not to mention, the kind of circumstances he's had to go through and the angsty way I'm having the 118 treat him has basically forced him to be a more serious version of himself. Coming to the 126 will help him rediscover his fun, light-hearted side, and we'll get to start seeing that in about two chapters. 
> 
> Tragically, 9-1-1 or 9-1-1: Lone Star isn't mine, no matter how much I may wish I'd thought of it first.  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rest of his shift had passed mostly without incident, and if anyone noticed his eyes were red and raw, they didn’t voice it out loud.

Both the car accident and drunken disorderly-turned mass bar fight they’d responded to involved no serious injuries, called for only a bit of heavy lifting and tools, and helped most of the last three hours of his shift fly by. Completely renewed with purpose and feeling happy for the first time in weeks, Buck barely noticed the few comments Eddie threw his way about his inability to properly apply a compress or wield a crowbar.

By the time he woke up the following morning, Buck finally felt—for the first time in a while—like he’d been able to look up and see the world around him.

He’d allowed himself the opportunity to sleep in a little longer than usual before rising and taking a long, relaxing shower. Wiping away the condensation from the mirror afterwards, Buck realized he had lost weight over the past few months. It wasn’t enough to affect his health—heaven knows he’d never hear the end of that—but it was obvious to him he’d been following a less than nourishing diet.

‘Good thing Texas is known for its barbecue and Mexican options,’ Buck thought to himself as he dressed for his day. He kept it simple with shorts and a t-shirt, figuring he’d be doing a lot of packing and moving.

Grabbing his wallet and his keys, Buck quickly left his apartment and headed for a local Starbucks. He got an Americano and a breakfast sandwich, the latter of which he’d finished by the time he made it to the closest Lowe’s.

He spent a good half hour, wandering up and down the moving supplies aisle, picking up assorted size boxes, packing tape, moving blankets, plastic wrap, and straps. Because he wasn’t entirely sure what furniture from his apartment he’d be taking or storing, he figured being prepared for any sort of moving scenario would be best.

By the time he’d made it back to his apartment, unloaded all his supplies, and started a pot of coffee, it was already going on noon. Owen had texted him an hour earlier and confirmed that he’d accepted Chief Radford’s offer and a position for both Buck and TK had been secured. Owen also reminded Buck that he didn’t have to rush to find an apartment because “after all, everything is bigger in Texas!” and if he had to, he could always move in with him and TK temporarily.

The thought of his uncle putting on a phony Southern accent made him laugh, but he found the thought of sharing a house with his family didn’t make him feel as weird as he thought it would. It’d be nice to be somewhere filled with more life than just his, people to make noise or laugh with or just breathe the same air as.

Buck responded with a cowboy hat-smiley emoji, before letting Owen know he was going to start packing immediately and he’d probably decide his furniture or potential apartment situation by the end of the day. Owen promised to call later in the evening after he talked to TK about the move. Buck chuckled mirthfully when they both signed off with a “good luck!”

He wasn’t sure how his cousin would take having to leave New York, but as far as Buck was concerned, all that city had ever done was take things from him. His father, his mother—for all intents and purposes, and his innocence; not to mention it’d almost cost TK his life. Twice.

No, Evan Buckley would not be sorry to see the Strands getting out of New York.

Chimney had also texted him asking about grabbing dinner that night with Maddie, but Buck declined saying he had other plans. He knew he’d eventually have to tell Maddie and Chimney what he was up to, but just for today, he’d keep it to himself.

Buck spent the rest of the day packing up his possessions, checking out apartments online, and contemplating whether he’d want his stuff shipped to Austin or if he should rent a moving truck with a trailer hitch and drive everything there himself. He’d managed to get everything small or able to be taken apart and put back together in less than a dozen boxes. His modest collection of books, movies, and video games had taken up three boxes by themselves, with the rest of the boxes holding clothes, lamps, photographs, and kitchenware. By the time it was dark, all that remained was the furniture and a few outfits and necessities to get him through the next few days.

He thought it spoke volumes to the kind of life he’d had in LA that he hadn’t obtained more personal items to outfit his apartment. The few texts he’d gotten from TK throughout the day cheered him up a bit though. His cousin seemed unwilling to discuss his overdose for the time being, but he and Buck had always preferred face-to-face conversation. Buck figured once the shock of all the changes wore off and the whole family was together in Austin, maybe he’d be ready to talk about it.

While he reheated some takeout for dinner, he looked at more apartments and even a few houses in Austin. It amazed him the kind of real estate he could get in Texas for a third of the money he’d have to pay in California. Buck could easily afford an apartment on his own if he wanted, yet he couldn’t help but think about Owen’s offer to let him live with him and TK for a bit until they all found their footing.

Just as Buck found himself wondering if it would be a genuine offer on his Uncle’s part, his phone buzzed on the counter alerting him to the man in question calling him. Smiling, he quickly answered and put the phone on speaker while he finished his lo mein.

“Your ears must’ve been ringing.”

**“Only saying nice things about me, I hope?”**

“Of course, Uncle Owen, as if I’d have anything but to say.” The pair of men laughed before Buck asked, “So…how’d it go?”

 **“Well,”** he heard his Uncle sigh before groaning into a body stretch. **“He promised he wasn’t trying to—to kill himself, that this was only his first relapse since you were teenagers.”**

“Did he say why it happened?”

**“You remember Alex, the guy he’s been seeing?”**

Buck was grateful he’d just finished his dinner because the thought of that self-absorbed jerk would’ve put him off his meal immediately. He found himself furious at the the idea of him having anything to do with his cousin nearly dying. “Yeah, the one I don’t like. What about him? Did he do this to TK?”

 **“No, Ev, TK did this to himself, but Alex sure didn’t help. TK was going to propose the night before last, but Alex broke things off. Apparently,”** Owen paused and seemed to think his next words carefully before blowing out a puff of air. **“Apparently, Alex has been cheating on him with some spin cycle instructor. TK, he—he couldn’t handle it; he’s pretty broken up about it. That’s why he took the pills.”**

If Buck disliked Alex before, now he hated his guts. He wanted to find the sneaky bastard and cold clock him—more than once—for doing something so low to his cousin.

 **“Now, before you go getting all Scary Big Cousin Evan for my kid, remember that we’re leaving and going someplace better. He’s not worth it, Ev, okay?”**

Buck could hear the fatherly tone, and Captain-like command, in Owen’s words and knew he was right. He let himself be angry for another second more, before running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re right, I know. I’m just…mad for him. And worried about him. And I miss him, and you.”

**“I know, kid, but you’ll be with us soon. It’s funny, TK thought I was taking him on vacation. He was less than okay with the idea of moving to Texas until I told him you’d be coming with us. That seemed to cheer him up some. I expect he’ll be texting you with details about the move shortly. And speaking of which…”**

Buck heard Owen shuffling some papers around on what he could only assume was his work desk. Giving his uncle a chance to get organized, Buck tossed the takeout container in his trash before pulling his cleaning supplies out from under the sink. He wasn’t a messy person, but he wanted to be thorough in his moving out process so he got back his security deposit.

On the other end of the line, Owen seemed to have found what he was looking for and, after a few clicks on a keyboard, he cleared his throat. **“I just sent you an email with the formal job offer. Take a look and let me know you got it.”**

Evan slid his computer over to the kitchen island and within a few keystrokes had the email up in front of him. He almost couldn’t contain his surprise. “Um…Uncle Owen? Are you sure you sent the right job offer?”

**“Yes, why? Is something wrong?”**

“Oh, no, I mean everything is fine. It’s just—are you sure this is the right figure under my salary? It seems a tad high for only a third-year firefighter who’s going to be brand new at a freshly rebuilt House.” The bold $75,000 blinking at him from underneath “Yearly Salary” surely couldn’t be for him? 

**“Ah, yes, well, I negotiated a higher salary for you. For the whole prospective team, actually, depending on their qualifications.”** Buck could swear Owen was gloating, but it almost sounded more like he was gloating for his nephew and future team, rather than himself. **“It’s a perfectly reasonable salary for someone with your qualifications, kid, and it includes a bonus for special ops.”**

“Really?”

**“Of course. Ev, we talked about this. You set records, you’re a damn good firefighter, and you’ve got the resume—your lawsuit notwithstanding—to back it up. Not to mention, you’re cleared for Technical and Water Rescues. You’re the gold standard, kid, and Austin FD wants to pay you right for it.”**

“Wow, well, I guess really can afford one of those newer apartments I looked at. Unless…” Buck hesitated to finish his thought, biting his lip while trying to decide how to ask the question he wanted to.

**“Unless?”**

“Unless you were serious about me living with you and TK for a while? I don’t have to, I know that, but I just…” He paused and was grateful when his Uncle didn’t try to finish the sentence for him. Buck knew he had to start being more open, that he couldn’t be afraid to tell people how he felt about something. Uncle Owen was always so open himself, Buck supposed he was a good person to practice on. “It would just be nice to have family to come home to at the end of the day. It’s been…really lonely for me. Empty. I wouldn’t mind some company for a little while, at least until I find myself again.”

**“Evan, the invitation to join me and TK at the 126 includes an invitation into our home. I know you can easily afford your own place. But I won’t lie, I think it’d be good for you and TK to be closer together. I never stopped believing you were a good influence on him, and we were both sorry to lose you to the West Coast. If staying with us is what will make you feel happy, comfortable, and, most importantly, safe, I’ll be glad to have you under my roof for a while.”**

“Thanks, Uncle Owen. That—that really means a lot.” The two men sat on the line for a moment without speaking, neither quite ready to break the comfortable silence. After a few minutes of Buck spinning his phone on the counter and Owen shuffling more papers around, Buck asked, “Are you on shift tonight?”

 **“Yep, it’s my last one with the 252. I’m going to break the news to them tomorrow morning during shift change. Hopefully it won’t break their hearts too hard.”** Both Owen and Buck laughed at the man’s joke, knowing he didn’t truly mean it how it sounded. **“No, but seriously, my crew has been incredible, but you know that. I’m going to miss them and everything we built here.”**

“Yeah, they’ll definitely be sorry to lose you, Uncle Owen, but you’re an amazing captain. You brought that house back from the dead, literally rebuilt it from the ground up.” Buck paused, allowing his words to sink in for both himself and his uncle—each of them knowing the real truth of his words. “It will be hard, but they’ll be able to let go because you made them ready. In our line of work, there’s really no guarantees of anything. You were there for the 252 when it needed you most, and now it’s time for you to go somewhere where they need you even more.”

 **“I know you’re right, kid. And, truthfully, I’m not just doing this to help the 126 or the city of Austin. I’m doing it for you boys, and for—for me. There are things about this city that have…changed me. Things are different now, and—”** Owen trailed off, almost as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. It gave Buck pause and had him tilting his head in consternation. **“And, well, it’s just time for a fresh start with my boys!”**

“Uncle Owen? Is everything okay? I mean, did something else happen besides TK’s overdose?”

**“Nah, Ev, I’m fine. Just a little emotional over the move and everything you know? Speaking of which, I told Chief Radford we’d be in Austin by Friday. That gives us the weekend to start settling in, check out the 126 and see what needs to be done to get it up and running, and then start looking at some real estate. What do you think? Can you meet us by Friday?”**

Buck wanted to press his Uncle about the sudden change of subject; he just couldn’t help but wonder if something else was going on. Then, he realized if it was something he was meant to know, his Uncle would tell him when the time was right. He’d never lied to him about anything and he knew Owen wouldn’t start now.

And yet…Buck was worried. He just hoped his fear was unfounded.

“Uh…yeah, yeah, that should be fine.” He cleared his throat and pulled his laptop back in front of him. He clicked over to the U-Haul website and checked out the reservation he’d started for a ten-foot truck. It was a small fortune to rent but considering the AFD was offering him a modest sum for moving expenses, the difference he’d pay would be minuscule in comparison. A few clicks and one very large transaction later, Buck said, “I just rented the truck for all my stuff. I’ll pick it up Wednesday and roll out of here early Thursday morning. I don’t have much, honestly, but I’m figuring most of the furniture besides my necessities will end up in storage until I’m ready to find my own place down there.”

**“That’s fine, kid. I was thinking you and TK might even share a storage unit considering he doesn’t have much in the way of furniture either. And before you ask, no, I haven’t told him he’s living with me yet. I’m letting that be a surprise, along with the fact that you’ll be living with us too.”**

Buck laughed at the small bit of sarcasm in the first half of his uncle’s words before smiling at the thought of the last half. As kids, he and TK had always talked about how cool it would be if they could actually live together as brothers. Buck wished it hadn’t taken so long to happen, but there really was no better time than now to have their family closer together—especially after everything they’d all been through.

“Well, I’ll be happy to help you surprise him. Maybe I’ll even bring some balloons and a cake.” The pair of them laughed again before Buck sat back in his chair, contemplating what else he’d have to do before he left Los Angeles. “I’m going to tell Maddie and Chim tomorrow, after I put in my transfer with the department.”

**“How do you think she’ll take it?”**

Sighing, Buck fidgeted with his phone again, watching as he spun the device in circles on the cool granite. “Not well, I’d imagine. But I think after I explain all this to her, she’ll understand where I’m coming from. I need to stop hiding things from her, especially how I feel about…the way other people might treat me, and it’s got to start with this. I just feel guilty that I let it get this bad without…I don’t know…telling her anything. I don’t want her to feel like there was something she could or should have done about it, you know? And I really don’t want her mad at Chimney for listening to me about not filing a complaint or sticking up for me or anything.”

 **“Well, kid, from what little you’ve told me so far, it sounds like Chimney wouldn’t be on Maddie’s hit list anyway. Or was that an incorrect assumption on my part?”** When Buck made no inclination to the contrary, Owen continued. **“If it helps, I don’t think she’ll feel guilty. Sad? Maybe. Pissed as hell? For sure. But you’re her little brother, it’s only natural for her to be upset. Think about how you’d feel if the situation was reversed and it was her being mistreated. Or if it was TK, even. You wouldn’t feel so happy either.”**

“I know, you’re right. It’s just hard not to feel like a lot of this is my fault. Like if I hadn’t followed through with the suit, none of this would’ve happened.”

**“Maybe not, Ev, but we don’t know that for sure. And lawsuit or no, the second you wound up back on their team, they should’ve attempted to put aside their hard feelings to move forward. That’s part of what being a team, a family, is. You talk things out and forgive. And if you can’t do that, you need to have the courage to admit it out loud, not bully your teammates into looking for something better.”**

Buck nodded his head, despite knowing his uncle couldn’t see him. “I know, I do; it’s just…going to take me some time. But I do think it will be easier once I tell them all and I’m away from this place. You know,” Evan had a thought and chuckled somewhat sarcastically, “It’s almost ironic the way moving somewhere new has always given me the best perspective on the places I’ve been. South America, Coronado, and now, LA.”

**“Yeah, life’s funny like that. When are you going to tell the rest of the 118?”**

“Wednesday, after my last shift. It won’t be a fun way to end a 12-hour day, but I’ve got too much to do tomorrow with the department, any last-minute moving concerns, and talking to Maddie and Chim. I’d rather devote more time to explaining to my sister than to everyone else.” Buck spent a few seconds reorganizing his cleaning supplies again, stalling for time. “I’m not anticipating the team being too broken up about it, so it should be a relatively short conversation.”

Owen grunted out something on his end that sounded a little like **“They should be,”** but Buck didn’t press it. Buck may have wanted to believe Eddie, Hen, Bobby, and the rest of the 118 would want him to stay, but he knew they wouldn’t. They’d been all but pushing him out the door for months; he was just finally following through with it. **“Alright, kid, well if you need either me or TK afterwards, you know how to find us.”**

“Yeah, I know. TK texted me earlier today for a bit; I think he was still a little in shock about the whole thing. He promised to call tomorrow night to check on me.”

**“Okay, good. It’s going to be okay, Evan. We’re going to get through this hard part and then we’ll all be together, and it will hopefully get a little easier.”**

“Gets bad before it gets good, right?”

**“You know it, nephew. Okay, you slacker, let me get back to work. Some of us still have paperwork to do!”**

Both men laughed at Owen’s comments, knowing it was all meant in jest. They both said their goodbyes, and after hanging up, Evan opened his chat with Maddie.

‘Might as well get this over with,’ he thought to himself.

**_Evan Buckley:_** Hey Mads, are you and Chim free tomorrow for lunch? Say around 1?

 ** _Maddie Buckley:_** Sure, little brother! Do you want to try that new sushi place on Olympic? Or our usual soup and sandwich from that shop in Lennox?

Buck thought about having this conversation with his sister and his friend and figured a public venue was not the way to go.

**_Evan Buckley:_** Let’s go with the usual, but can we meet at my place instead? I’ll pick up lunch and you guys can come here. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.

 ** _Maddie Buckley:_** Of course, Evan! Is everything alright?

 ** _Evan Buckley:_** Yeah, Mads, everything is fine.

 ** _Maddie Buckley:_** Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow. Love you! 💜

 ** _Evan Buckley:_** Love you too, sis.

With that out of the way, Buck took a few minutes to type up a formal resignation letter to provide to the Deputy Chief in the morning. Chief Sayre hadn’t exactly been fond of Buck considering all the trouble he caused, so he couldn’t imagine the man being too sorry to send him somewhere else. Uncle Owen had sent over all the paperwork for his transfer—already signed and accepted by the AFD—and all Buck had to do was hand it over.

Buck got all the documents printed up and prepared in a folder, leaving it on the counter near his laptop. He packed up his printer and remaining office supplies in another box and finally got started on cleaning the apartment. He focused on the upstairs primarily before moving to the kitchen and living area. It was nearing one a.m. by the time he’d finished, and knowing the day he had ahead of him, he figured he should quit while he was ahead. He grabbed a quick shower before collapsing in bed, hoping for more than a few hours of restless sleep.

* * *

He’d been waiting in the sitting area outside Chief Sayre’s office for the better part of a half hour. Knowing he didn’t have an appointment with the man, Buck figured he was lucky to even be getting seen at all. The receptionist had tried turning him away, reputation preceding him Buck supposed, but he insisted it was an emergency and he needed to see Sayre today.

After what felt like a small eternity of Buck’s foot tapping and slightly labored breathing, the Chief’s door opened. Jensen Sayre, a 5’10” hulk of a man with coal black hair and a scar above his left eyebrow from a Lincoln Heights fire back in ’81, looked every inch the Deputy Chief. Noticing Buck, he waved him in with a gruff “Buckley!”

Buck followed the man back through his door and took the seat offered to him. Sayre sat behind his desk, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his fingers lightly together. The two men stared at each other for a moment, before Sayre said, “So, Buckley, to what do I owe the pleasure of a meeting with the LAFD’s most notorious firefighter?”

Trying not to gnaw on his lip, Buck clenched his hands over the file folder he held with all his transfer paperwork. “Well, um, first, thank you for agreeing to see me on short notice, sir. I apologize for the abrupt meeting request, but I don’t have much time and I needed to meet with you.”

“I see. I admit, I was a little concerned with the hastiness of your presence here today. Should I be worried that you’re about to serve me with another lawsuit, Buckley?” Sayre nodded to the folder in Buck’s hands with a grim expression.

“No—no sir. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite.” Buck flipped open the folder and handed over the papers, desperately trying to quell the shaking in his hands. “I’m formally resigning from the LAFD and requesting an immediate transfer to Austin Fire and Rescue.”

Sayre’s face registered an expression somewhere between shock and, oddly, reluctance? Taking the papers, he casually looked through them, reading over his resignation letter and scanning his eyes over the transfer approval from Chief Radford. “The 126? I was under the impression that Ladder had shuttered its doors after a major accident?”

“Yes, sir, all but one member of the house was lost. Austin FD requested Chief Strand come to Austin to rebuild the house and I was offered a position with them, sir.”

“I see.” Sayre looked over the papers once more before placing them on the desk between them. “It’s not a shock that they want you, but I must say, I’m surprised, Buckley.”

Buck tilted his head in confusion. “Sir?”

“By your request to transfer, formality though it may be considering you’ve already been accepted by AFD and could just resign from the 118 if you really wanted to.” Sayre nodded to the stack of papers before continuing. “After all that you went through to be back with the 118, I thought it’d take another life-altering, natural disaster grievously injuring you for you to ever consider walking away.”

Buck tried not to wince at the near-casual tone of the chief’s somewhat-dramatic words. He figured the man was simply trying to maintain a modicum of decorum in the face of someone so troublesome; either that, or he’d already had his fill of the disaster that is Evan Buckley and was just being realistic about it. Either way, it still stung. “With all due respect, sir, I have truly appreciated the opportunity to return to the LAFD, especially after everything I put the department through. But the past few months have proven I wore out my welcome at the 118 a long time ago.” He hung his head, trying not to let his mask crack at the memory of his team members’ attitudes the past four months. “I think we both know it would be better for me to depart quietly, rather than stick around any longer and cause more trouble for the department or myself.”

The chief made a ‘hmm’ noise and gazed over Buck for a few seconds. “I’m curious, Buckley. What makes you think you’ve worn out your welcome?”

Buck hesitated to answer. If he told the truth, he could be risking Bobby or the others getting in trouble, which—despite everything—was the last thing he really wanted. But, if he wasn’t honest, didn’t that make him just as culpable in his own mistreatment? “I just—” He tried to figure out a way to answer that put both his actions and those of the 118 on equally responsible footing. “My presence at the 118 these last few months has caused a strain that wasn’t there before. I know that I created friction with my suit; I take responsibility for that. But, the—the team haven’t seemed to be able to move behind my actions. It’s made for a difficult work environment for everyone, and I think, considering this is a result of the choice I made, it’s best if I remove myself from the equation. So, I would really appreciate it if you’d approve the transfer.” Chewing his lip again, he decided he really had nothing in LA to lose, job wise at least, so he made his request that much more final. “Though, even if you don’t approve it, I’m resigning from the LAFD and will be joining the AFD effective immediately. I’m mostly requesting the transfer out of respect for you and the department, sir. I’ve caused enough difficulties in my tenure here; I’d prefer to end it on a slightly more positive and inconspicuous note.”

“Well, despite how I may personally feel regarding your rather…colorful tenure with the LAFD, I can’t ignore the fact that you’re one of the best firefighters I’ve seen in the last decade as deputy fire chief, Buckley. You’re meticulous, skilled, and, most importantly, you care for every single charge.” That pronouncement surprised Buck, but before he could respond, Chief Sayre continued. “I’ll approve the transfer, Buckley. I will be more than sorry to lose you—especially considering all the circumstances that lead to this. But, at this point, I can understand why leaving might be more appealing than staying.”

“Th-thank you, sir. I’m really sorry to be leaving; I just think it’s what’s best. My time with the LAFD has been invaluable to me as a firefighter, despite how my recent actions may imply the opposite. I really do appreciate all the opportunities this job has given me and I’m truly grateful for your cooperation and time here today.” Buck did his best to keep his head high, despite the way he felt like he was collapsing inside. He knew he was making the right decision, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“I appreciate you saying that, Buckley. I’ll get these papers signed and sent over to Austin by the end of the day.” Chief Sayre shuffled the papers to the side, before rising from his desk. “Anything else you’ll need from the department for the transition?”

Recognizing a dismissal when he saw it, Buck rose from his seat as well. “N-no, sir, that will be all. Thank you again for your time and f-for allowing me to do this job. It’s truly been some of the best times of my life.” Buck reached out his hand to shake the chief’s, relieved that the meeting went as well as he could’ve hoped.

After shaking Sayre’s hand, Buck turned to depart the office, eager to get out of the man’s well-groomed hair. “Buckley, if I may leave you with a final piece of advice?”

Buck remained by the door but turned to the chief again, surprised that the man had followed him to the door. “Sir?”

“Before you go, make sure you tell the 118 how you feel…how you really feel.” Buck felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a nervous and choked feeling settling in his throat at Sayre’s words. “If you feel it necessary to apologize—again—beforehand like you did with me today, go ahead. But it seems to me, based on everything I’ve seen and heard today and before, your actions weren’t completely unjust—despite what everyone else may think.” Buck couldn’t help the shock enveloping him. For the chief to acknowledge his actions as at all justified was something he’d never expected. “And I’ll tell you something else, son. That guilt you’re carrying around on your back? Don’t take it with you when you leave for Austin. You’ve paid enough, been punished enough, so leave it behind where it can’t hurt you anymore.”

Sayre clapped him briefly on the shoulder, nodding at him once, before turning back to his desk. Buck clenched his jaw, realizing he had no idea what to say to that, and quickly escaped from the man’s office.

Buck all but ran back to his jeep, finally losing hold of his emotions once he was safely ensconced in the vehicle’s cab. He spent several long minutes fending off a panic attack, his brain unable to catch up with the rest of his body. Doing his best to remember the deep breathing TK told him to practice when they were texting that morning, a further five minutes passed before Buck finally felt okay again. He grabbed his cell phone, fired off a quick “It’s done and I’m all set” text to both his cousin and Uncle, realizing that it was going on 12:30 and he still had to grab lunch on the way back to his apartment. He sent Maddie a text letting her know he was picking up their lunch and would see her soon before pulling out of the parking lot.

As Buck left the department’s headquarters behind, he couldn’t help but think about what Chief Sayre had said regarding his feelings. It was exactly what TK and Owen had been saying to him for days, but to hear it come from the deputy chief of the LAFD was completely unexpected. He knew Sayre had probably been more involved in the entire investigation with his lawsuit, but it hadn’t occurred to Buck that anyone in the department he sued may think his actions were the least bit justified.

It made him feel slightly vindicated to know that someone—in some small measure—seemed to understand his side of things—in a way that nobody at the 118 even seemed capable of comprehending. He just hoped that Maddie and Chim saw his point of view about the whole situation in even a slightly similar measure as Sayre had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! I know I've been giving you oodles and oodles of slow-moving scene exposition, but I promise once Buck has his big conversations and finally gets moving, the story will really start to pick up. The 126 doesn't do anything slowly or half-assed as we know, so things are going to heat up soon. 
> 
> If you'd like, feel free to squee or yell at me or critique in the comments! Hearing your thoughts only helps me improve as a writer, plus I just like chatting with readers! 
> 
> The next chapter will be out by the end of the week!


	6. Running Out of Time, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck finally starts saying his goodbyes, but will it go the way he thinks? Or will some people surprise him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry sorry for the wait on this chapter, readers! It got so far away from me, I couldn't see the end and had to split it in two. So, here we are! The goodbyes, part 1! In this chapter, we'll see how Buck tells Maddie and the 118, but will it go the way Buck thinks? You'll have to read and see! 
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Any mistakes are my own, but, alas, I do not own any parts of 9-1-1 or its multiverses.

Buck paced around his living room, adjusting boxes, brushing imaginary dust off his couch, and doing his best to rein in his nerves while he waited for his sister and Chimney to arrive.

He’d made it home from the sandwich shop with just under ten minutes to spare before they would arrive, and he’d been anxiously moving around the apartment ever since. When it hit him that the labored breathing he was hearing was coming from his own throat, Buck took a second to sit on his couch and put his head between his knees.

In between breaths, he reminded himself that he was doing the right thing, that Maddie would always love him no matter what, and that everything was going to work out. After a few more deep inhales and exhales, he finally felt his heart rate slow and his breathing calm.

And then, the doorbell rang.

Girding himself for the barrage of questions that he knew would come the second his sister walked in, Buck picked himself up from his couch and slowly made his way to the door.

The smile Maddie gave him when he opened the door was enough to warm him to his toes and took away some of the remaining anxiety he’d been feeling. “Hey, Evan! Thanks for having us over for lunch. I’ve missed you! It seems like it’s been ages since we…”

Chimney had followed Maddie into Buck’s apartment, smiling at his girlfriend’s happy greeting, before they both stopped beside the kitchen island. Maddie’s words trailed off and both she and Chimney surveyed the stack of boxes set against the living room wall. Maddie looked around the practically bare space and turned to face Buck who’d stayed beside his front door, hands in pockets, with his eyes glued to the floor.

“Evan…what’s going on? Why is all your stuff packed up in boxes?” Maddie tilted her head, her eyes the picture of concern as she took in Buck’s sad expression.

“Maybe—maybe you should sit down, Mads.”

He motioned to the dining table he’d yet to shrink wrap before placing their lunch in front of them. When neither Maddie or Chim moved to start eating, Buck sighed deeply and grabbed his bottle of iced tea, needing something to fidget with while he told his sister and his friend what he had to.

“Maddie, things haven’t been working out so good for me at the 118. The team hasn’t really let up on me since I’ve been back. Every call I go on, every decision I make, every little maneuver, I get criticized for it all. There isn’t one day that’s passed since I returned to the 118 months ago that Bobby or the rest of the crew haven’t had a hundred bad things to say about my performance every day. As far as they’re concerned, I can’t seem to do anything right. And if they’re not critiquing me, they’re ignoring me completely. It’s—it’s kind of been like Marcus and Mom all over again.” Buck hung his head with shame, the murderous, yet heartbroken look on his sister face—along with Chimney’s solemn expression—gutting him. “Th-the only person who hasn’t been that way towards me is Chim. He’s been pretty much the only thing holding me up at the firehouse these days.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, Maddie seemed to remember that he was sitting there beside her. She turned to him with a glare, but before she could yell at him for—Buck imagined—not telling her the truth, Chimney interrupted. “I wanted to tell you, Maddie. So many times. Every day it just got harder and harder to pretend things were fine, and every time you asked me how things were going, I almost confessed everything to you.”

“Then why didn’t you, Howie?”

“Because I asked him not to,” Buck interjected. Maddie whipped her head around to look at him and the fierceness in her gaze was a sight to behold. “You’ve already lost so much time, Maddie. You finally had an entire family, people who care for you almost as much as me, and you had Chimney. I didn’t…I couldn’t take them from you. Not like that. I just couldn’t do it. So, I told Chim not to do anything about it.”

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie whispered, a tear falling down her cheek as she reached over to take his hand. “Little brother, it’s not your job to protect me from something like this. If someone or something is hurting you, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me. What was it you said to me when I came back? Standing in between you and anyone who wants to hurt you-”

“Is exactly where I want to be standing,” Buck finished for her. “I remember, Mads, I just—I didn’t think that rule applied in this case.”

“Well, now you know. So, I’m here. We’re here,” she said, looking at Chimney and grabbing his hand too seemingly forgiving him for the small part he’d played in everything. “You’re not alone, Evan. Just tell us what to do; we can help you.”

“I know that. Even more so now that I told you the truth, too.”

That seemed to surprise her, and she cocked her head to the side. “Who else have you told?”

“Uncle Owen. He—he’s going to help me.”

“Owen? But, besides listening or giving advice, how can he help? He’s all the way in…”

Maddie’s words trailed off again, her face morphing from confusion to something else Buck tried to identify. He knew the implication of his words, the packed boxes suddenly speaking loud and clear, and just waited for Maddie to connect the dots. When it seemed she finally had, a sad smile crossed her face and she gently placed on a hand on Buck’s cheek. He closed his eyes at the feel of her soft skin cradling his face and heard her whisper, “You’re leaving us, aren’t you?”

Tears filled his eyes and while he did his best not to let them fall, the delicate smile on Maddie’s face had him letting them go without realizing it. She’d always known what he was going to say before he’d even gotten the words out.

Placing his hand over hers, relishing in the comfort his sister gave him, Buck nodded. “I have to, Maddie. I can’t—I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t keep feeling like this. Being a firefighter is the only thing I’ve ever done that made me feel like I meant something. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that has truly made me feel like I matter, like I’m making a difference. I became a fireman for Dad, but I stay in this life for myself. It’s who I am, who I choose to be. But, being here, doing it this way with people who constantly either have me second guessing myself or have me feeling invisible? It’s torture. I feel like I’m going crazy, like everything I’ve ever believed about myself is a lie. I’m—I’m losing myself here, Maddie. It’s like I can barely breathe. I can’t…do this anymore. Not here.”

“But…New York? You hate it there.”

“No, not New York. Uncle Owen got an offer to rebuild the 126 in Austin. They uh—they lost all but one member of the ladder in a factory explosion. AFD wants Owen to do for Austin what he did for the 252. He was already taking TK with him; he’s been having a…difficult time, too.” Buck looked Maddie directly in the eye and emphasized the word “difficult,” willing her to understand what he meant. The subtle clenching of her jaw told him she had. “When I told Uncle Owen about everything happening at the 118, what was happening to me, he offered me a spot with him. And, apparently, I have ‘desirable” skills because the AFD agreed to the transfer, no questions asked.”

Maddie inhaled deeply before returning both her hands to cover Buck’s. She seemed to ponder his hands for a moment, running her fingers softly over the ridges and grooves of his skin. Buck often wondered what went through his sister’s mind when he’d see the calculated way she’d almost stare through someone or something, seeing the parts of them hidden furthest out of sight. After a few minutes passed, Buck blurted out, “Mads? What are you thinking?”

“Well,” she paused for a moment, giving Buck’s hands a squeeze before looking up at the ceiling and quirking her eyebrow. “I’m thinking about how much notice I have to give Sue about requesting off for Christmas, seeing as it looks like I’ll be in Austin for the holidays this year.” They both smiled at her small joke before Maddie cocked her head to look him in the eyes again. “I’m also thinking about how much I’m going to miss you when you’re gone. Which, by the looks of things, will be sooner than later?”

Buck looked around to stare at the boxes piled along the wall, the few pieces of larger furniture he’d already plastic wrapped. He nodded and looked back at her again. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. The plan is for Owen, TK, and me to arrive in Austin by Friday, so we have the weekend to start getting settled before the work begins.”

“You never did like to wait around once you had a destination in mind.” Maddie laughed, despite the tears glistening once more in her eyes. “I’m really going to miss you.”

“We’re both going to miss you, Buckaroo,” Chimney agreed.

Buck turned to look at his coworker, his friend, and was surprised to see the moisture settled in the corner of his eyes too. Chimney was never a big crier, from what little Buck had seen, so it surprised him that everything he’d heard today had made such an impression.

Chimney leaned forward, grasping onto Buck’s right shoulder and squeezing it in a supportive manner. “I just want you to know I’m sorry things happened like this. I understand why you didn’t want me telling Maddie, but I wish I had—if only because maybe it’d mean you wouldn’t be leaving us. I’m really going to miss you, man. I’ve liked having another little brother around; I’m not sure what I’m going to do without my second favorite Buckley being a stone’s throw away.”

Buck smiled at Chimney’s words, enjoying the warm feeling they left in his chest. He pulled one of his hands from beneath Maddie’s and grasped onto Chimney’s. “Well, at least you’ll have one of us to keep you on your toes. I'm only really a phone call away, Chim, and, from the sound of things, you’ll be visiting for Christmas. So, it won’t really be that long that we’re apart, will it?”

The two men smiled at each other and nodded in agreement. Maddie’s stomach growling reminded them they hadn’t yet eaten, so the three of them took a few minutes to enjoy the levity and eat their lunch. After they’d finished, they talked more about the details of Buck’s move, and Chimney agree to come before his shift Thursday to help Buck with his heavier furniture. Maddie promised to join them so she could say goodbye and give her brother a proper sendoff.

Buck tried to ignore the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach when Maddie cried again over his departure.

As the couple got ready to leave a while later, Maddie having a shift to get to, Chimney asked the question Buck had been waiting for since he’d confessed he was moving. “When are you going to tell the others?”

Buck sighed and clenched his hands in his pockets again. “Tomorrow, after my shift is over. I know it’s probably not fair of me to tell them when you’ll all still have another few hours on your shift. But I wanted to tell you and Maddie first, and I’m hoping I’ll be able say goodbye to Athena and—and Christopher while you’re all still on shift tomorrow night. It will be my last chance to see them before I leave, so I figured that would be the best time.”

Chimney hung his head before clapping Buck on the shoulder and looking him in the eyes again. “Well, I’ve got your back, Buckaroo. You don’t have to do it alone; I’ll stand by you while you do this. Whatever you need, man; I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Chim,” Buck said shaking his friend’s hand. “I appreciate it.” He gave Maddie a firm hug goodbye, promising he’d see her soon and telling her to be safe during her shift.

Closing the door of his loft, Buck couldn’t help but look around the place and cringe at how he felt. After the heaviness—then the bit of lightness—of the afternoon he’d had, his apartment almost felt claustrophobic from the weight of everything he’d dealt with recently. He picked up his roll of shrink wrap, pondering wrapping up the last of the big furniture save for his bed, when he decided he had to get out of his apartment for a little while.

As he scaled the steps to the rooftop deck of his building, it occurred to Buck how the closer he got to his move, the smaller Los Angeles started to feel. It had felt for a while like the world had been closing in around him, suffocating him, but telling Maddie had really served to make everything real. And while he stared out across the expanse of the city, he realized that reality didn’t terrify him the way it had a few days prior. He still had telling the 118 to face, not to mention his other goodbyes, but he was confident that he’d be able to do it all and, hopefully, remain in one piece.

‘And on that note,’ he thought, taking out his phone and clicking to a contact he hadn’t used in a while, he pressed the “dial” button before he could stop himself. The phone rang a few times and the call finally connected.

**“Buckaroo! Where the heck have you been and to what do I owe the pleasure of a call?”**

Carla’s laughter filled the phone and her greeting had him smiling ear to ear. “Hey, Carla. I’ve uh—I’ve been around, just a little out of the loop these days. But I’ve been missing you. How’s things with the family? How’s—how’s Christopher?” Even the mention of his favorite kid, who he hadn’t seen in weeks, felt like a punch to the gut.

It was bad enough that Eddie would only give him the time of day when he was criticizing him. But when, shortly after Buck’s return to the 118, Eddie stopped letting Buck see Christopher, telling Buck he wasn’t “comfortable” with him getting near his son, it had devastated Buck. It felt like his insides had frozen and his heart had slowed to a crawl.

**“My babies are good, thank you for asking. And little superman is doing just fine, though he misses you like crazy. He keeps asking where you are, and I’m starting to run out of excuses.”**

Buck heard what she wasn't saying out loud and he felt his chin drop to his chest, his throat tight and wobbly. He wasn’t sure how much Carla knew, he’d never come out and admitted anything to her himself, but his constant excuses for why he couldn’t see Christopher spoke volumes—of that he was fairly sure. But, considering Buck was leaving in less than 48 hours, he was running out of time to say his goodbyes to Christopher.

He’d have to tell Carla something, but it didn’t necessarily need to be the whole truth. Buck decided on a variation of it that would save everyone, especially Eddie.

“About that, um, Carla, there’s something I gotta tell you. I’m—I’m moving…to Texas. My Uncle Owen, he’s rebuilding a House in Austin that lost all but one of their team in a big disaster. He has experience with rebuilding an entire crew, but he could use the help. So…so I’m going to go and help out down there for a while.” It took everything Buck had not to let his voice waver, to not admit the whole truth of why he was leaving. Carla had always been a straight shooter with him, and here Buck was basically lying to her.

But he couldn’t let her know the whole truth; he just couldn’t. Eddie and Christopher needed her, and Buck wouldn’t compromise their relationship for him. It wasn’t worth it, not when he was leaving anyway.

**“Aw Buckaroo, that’s the saddest news I’ve heard in a long time. I mean, don’t get me wrong, hon, I’m thrilled for you. It sounds like a good opportunity, but I’ll certainly miss your pretty face—even more than I already have been.”**

Buck could hear the implication in her tone and did his best not to let it sting. After all, it was his fault she hadn’t seen him in so long, but how could Buck see Carla without seeing Christopher too? The risk was too high, Eddie would have been furious, and Buck couldn’t chance it.

Until now.

“Well, the thing is, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. They need us in Austin immediately, so I’m pretty much leaving right away. I was—I was hoping I could see you and…and Christopher? Maybe tomorrow night, so I can say goodbye? I know it’s short notice, but I’m rolling out first thing Thursday morning.” Buck knew tomorrow night would be his only chance to say goodbye to Christopher without Eddie interfering. Since Eddie would still be on shift, Buck wasn’t sure if his former friend would know to interfere or even try at all, but Buck wasn’t about to find out. He inhaled deeply, trying to force out what he needed to say. “It’ll be my—my last chance to say goodbye to you both before I go.”

**“Of course, honey! I’ll be sorry to say my goodbyes, but you’re not leaving this city without giving me a big enough hug to last me ‘til you come back. I’m not sure how Christopher will take the news, though.”**

“I imagine he won’t take it much better than I will,” Buck whispered out. Looking out over his apartment building, he suddenly felt like his heart was in a vice. He had to remind himself—again—that he was doing the right thing for himself, even if it may hurt Christopher. Buck would rather cut off his own arm than ever let anything bad happen to the kid, but Buck knew with time he’d be okay.

Christopher would have his father, his Abuela and Tía Peppa, not to mention the rest of the 118 and Carla and everyone. He’d be fine. Eventually he’d forget about any pain he may feel over losing Buck and find his happiness again. 

Buck had to believe that. Otherwise, he’d really fall apart.

“I’ve uh—” he cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the hollow feeling of wanting to sob that had settled into his throat. “I’ve got a shift until about five tomorrow. Why don’t I meet you at about six-thirty? At the park you always take Christopher to?” Buck could only hope that he’d have extricated himself from the 118 and the impending conversation with the crew by that point. “Oh, and Carla? Can you not say anything to anyone—especially Eddie—if you see them before tomorrow afternoon? I—I haven’t told the 118, yet. I’m telling them after my shift tomorrow.”

If Carla heard the way his request sounded desperate in his ears, she didn’t say. She simply replied, **“I understand, Buckaroo. I won’t say a thing. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”**

“See you, Carla. And…thank you.”

**“You know I’ve always got your back, handsome. Now, go get some rest. You’ve got lives to save in a few hours.”**

“Yes ma’am.” Following another set of ‘goodnights’, Buck hung up the call and turned to head back inside his apartment building. The sun had started to set, and Buck realized he still had quite a few things to wrap up—literally—before he could go to sleep.

Buck had talked to his landlord, Nelson, earlier that morning about breaking his lease. He paid an extra month’s rent and told the landlord to keep the additional last month’s rent he’d put down when he first moved in. Nelson tried to refuse the extra month, the man had felt practically indebted to Buck after it turned out one of the people Buck saved during the tsunami was Nelson’s sister, but Buck wouldn’t hear of it. Nelson did insist on Buck at least taking back his security deposit and promising if he ever decided to move back to LA, to consider giving one of Nelson’s properties a shot again. Of course, Buck agreed, and the men parted on good terms.

He decided to send Nelson another thank you email, along with the promise to refer anyone he may know in LA looking for a new apartment. After that, he confirmed his truck rental and started making a list of all his boxes to ensure nothing was missing. He made sure to shrink wrap the remaining furniture—with the exception of his bed frame and mattress. Those would wait until Thursday morning. Figuring that he wouldn’t really be able to drive more than twelve to fifteen hours at a time, Buck thought it’d be smart to find a hotel halfway there. He booked a room at an El Paso Hampton Inn, checked to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else for the evening, and closed his laptop once more.

After spinning around his loft a few more times, making sure he wasn't missing anything, that all major articles and furniture were present and packed, and that there wasn’t any spot he hadn’t cleaned thoroughly, Buck figured now was as good a time as any to head to sleep. His shift started at five a.m., and considering it was the last one he’d have with the 118, he wanted to be sure he went out better than he started.

As he trekked up the stairs to his bedroom and climbed under the blankets, Buck couldn’t help the anxious tremble that went through him at the thought of his shift tomorrow. He’d received an email from Chief Sayre a few hours after their meeting offering to accompany him when he told the rest of the 118 about the transfer, but Buck politely declined. Buck was counting on them taking it all well with most, if not all of them, pleased to finally have him out of their hair. On the slim chance that some of them responded poorly, well, it wouldn’t really matter anyway because Buck was leaving regardless.

He wasn’t counting on any of them being took broken up about it though.

There was a small part of him that hoped at least Hen or Bobby would be upset about his leaving. Even though they both either contributed to or ignored his recent torture, Buck always believed some part of them still cared about him—still loved him in some way. Maybe they’d done everything that had because they really did want to teach him something? He always said firefighting was his life, the only thing he really ever cared about, but they didn't know exactly why that was. So, maybe this was just their way of trying to…

_‘Knock it off!’_ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his Uncle interrupted his mental thrashing. _‘That’s not how people treat their teammates or teach someone they care about, and you know it.’_

Even if it might make him crazy for listening to voices in his head, Evan knew this one was right. It would probably take him forever to overcome this—this constant belief that he deserved what he got—but he told himself that was the reason he was moving to Austin. He was going to be with most of his real family that never treated him that way, that always loved him, and truly made him better.

Losing the 118 would be painful, but Bobby had it right the first time.

_This is not a family._

So, Buck would go in tomorrow with his head held high, do his shift to the best of his ability, and then he’d say his goodbyes.

One last time.

* * *

For all the nerves coursing through him, Buck had a surprisingly good sleep. He’d managed to wrestle himself out of bed and dress for his day without thinking too hard about what he had to do later on.

Since all his small appliances were packed up, he left his apartment a little earlier to grab coffee and a breakfast sandwich before making his way to the firehouse.

He’d arrived and walked into the 118 as inconspicuously as possible, carrying his gym bag to his locker. After getting dressed for his shift, he looked around to make sure nobody was watching and quickly emptied his locker into the bag. Buck hadn’t kept much in the way of important things in there for months now, but he had a few photos and some training gear he didn’t want to leave behind.

With that out of the way, he made his way up into the loft and noticed Bobby, Hen, and Eddie all seated around the couches cheerfully discussing an upcoming cookout. Chimney nodded to him from the kitchen, sad eyes peeking out from over his coffee cup. Buck simply walked behind him and squeezed his shoulder for a minute before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Buckley! Check the ambulance and the trucks before you do anything else! Make sure all supplies are fully stocked and ready to go.”

Buck finished half his water bottle and acknowledged Bobby’s command. “Yes, sir.” He gave another small smile to Chimney before slipping quietly down the stairs.

The rest of the day passed much the same as it usually did. Bobby gave him an order, Buck followed it, and somebody found something to criticize. Thankfully, however, Chim seemed to realize he’d be thinking about what he had to say to everyone later and did his best to keep the rest of the team as distracted as possible. He told stories about Maddie, shared a bunch of jokes Josh or Albert told at the last poker night, and played more than enough rounds of “What if…?” and “Would you rather…?” to last hours.

The whole time, Buck barely said a word, remaining solidly locked inside his head trying to figure out how he was going to say goodbye to this team of people he’d believed for so long was his family. He also thought seriously about what Sayre had said, wondering if he should tell the team what their treatment had really done to him. And, in between his thinking, it seemed like the city of LA knew he’d need an easier time of it because there was only a handful of emergencies throughout the day, including one major housefire.

There were, thankfully, no casualties.

Halfway through his shift, TK had texted him “good luck” and to remind him that he was there for him, that no matter what happened with the 118 today, he had family waiting for him on the other end of all this. The small bit of love—not to mention the rainbow of heart emojis—from his cousin brought a smile to his face, and he didn’t even mind it when Bobby yelled at him to put his phone away and get back to mopping.

Before Buck knew it, the emergencies were done, his chores was finished, and his last shift at the 118 was over. As he packed up in the locker room and started making his way back up to the loft, he took several deep breaths and tried not to throw up from nerves. ‘Just say what you have to, get it all out, and then leave. They can’t keep you here; it’s not up to them anymore,’ he told himself.

When he crested the top of the staircase, he looked at Chimney sitting at the table with Bobby and the rest of the 118 and nodded to him, acknowledging it was time. Chim’s eyes got that somber look again, but he gave a reassuring smile that spoke volumes.

Buck silently made his way to the head of the table and cleared his throat, getting the attention of the rest of his team. “Um…guys? I—I have something I have to tell you.”

“What, Buckley? Planning to sue us again?” Buck tried not to wince at Eddie’s jab or the way the man antagonistically smiled at his comment while sipping his coffee.

Before he could reply, however, Chimney interfered. “Shut up, Eddie, and let him talk.”

The dark expression on Chimney’s face must’ve said a lot to the team because Eddie’s mouth snapped shut, and Bobby nodded to Buck and said, “What is it, Buck?”

Part of Buck almost wanted to smile. It’d been months since the captain had referred to him by his nickname. But, now, after so many months of not hearing it and only having his last name cruelly flung around in its place, the nickname just felt wrong. It was like it burned him to finally hear it again in the context of this situation.

He took a deep breath, tightly gripped the strap of his bag resting on his shoulder and looked around the table. “I just wanted you to know that today was my last shift. I’ve formally resigned from the LAFD and the 118. I’ve already cleared out my locker and left all my equipment cleaned and ready for you to inventory. If you have any questions, Chief Sayre should be able to answer them for you. He has all the necessary paperwork for my resignation and transfer.”

The remaining members of the 118—save Chimney—stared at him like he’d grown another head. Buck had previously considered the possibility it might be a slight surprise to them and gave them all a minute to process. Before he could open his mouth to say anything further, though, all hell broke loose.

“What do you mean this is your last shift?!” _Hen._

“Buck, what are you talking about? You’re resigning?!” _Bobby._

“Oh, that’s just great, Buckley. So, you sue us and don’t get exactly what you want so you just bail? Leave?! There’s a damn surprise.” _Eddie._

“I—” Buck tried to respond, to answer even one of them, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It was like his usual verbal barrage kicked up to ten. Bobby kept asking him what he could possibly be thinking, Hen asked where he thought he was going to go, and Eddie went off about how selfish he was to put them through what he had only to turn around and quit a few months later.

With every second of their tirade that passed, Buck felt lower and lower until he thought it was a miracle the Earth hadn’t swallowed him whole. All three had stood up and their voices all seemed to get louder. They were closing in on him like walls, and even though he kept trying to pick his head up and respond, nobody would let him say anything.

Buck had expected some reactions, but not a fight like this. It confused him. Why would they care so much now when they’d had nothing good to say about him for months? If anything, he was doing what they all really wanted.

After several minutes of yelling, he seriously considered just giving up and walking out without so much as a goodbye when—

“EVERYBODY, SHUT THE HELL UP!”

The shout, along with the slam of a fist, had every person’s jaws snapping closed and their eyes flying over to Chimney. Ironically, despite the anger dripping from his shout and his clenched hand resting on the tabletop, Chimney still wore an expression of tense calm—poised, yet ready to strike.

“Chimney?” Bobby, looking beyond shocked at his normally reserved paramedic, was the first to speak.

“You heard me, Cap. All of you, shut the hell up.” Despite the disrespectful word choice, Chimney’s tone remained steady as he rose to his feet. “I’ve had it. I’ve had it with each and every one of you. I’ve sat here for months and watched him deal with all the mind games, the criticism, and the lies. You all drove him to this! And after all of it, you stand there pissed at Buck when you all are the ones who pushed him right out the door? No, I don’t think so. I’ve been quiet long enough, and Evan has heard more than enough from all of you. Now, you are all going to sit there and listen to what he has to say without another god damn word.”

Nobody had ever heard Chimney speak that way, and it seemed the shock of that alone was enough to keep them quiet. Receiving a nod from his last remaining friend at the 118, Buck took a deep breath and tried to quickly force out what he wanted to say so he could get out of there.

“He’s—he’s right. I can’t do this anymore, Captain Nash.” Focused as he was on a random spot on the table, Buck didn’t catch the visible wince on Bobby’s face when called him by his formal title. “I know I made mistakes, more than my share, with the lawsuit being the worst of it. I know I’m selfish and it wasn’t fair what I did, but you have to understand. This house, this job, it’s everything I have. My entire life is—was—wrapped up in the 118. Besides Maddie, the 118 and the people in it were practically all I had. And for a while, I didn’t even have Maddie, mostly just this place. And, when it was t-taken from me, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was losing half myself if I lost this job, if I lost you guys.”

Buck finally picked his head up and looked at his former teammates, the sorrow of their loss filling him again. His eyes stopped on Bobby and he could almost imagine it was regret shining in the man’s eyes. “And the worst part was, Captain Nash, I trusted you. I believed you that you’d never lie to me, that you’d treat me with the dignity and respect of a captain who made me part of a team and also made me feel like one of his own. It felt so good to know I had someone who was both a captain and like a father—something I-I haven’t had in so long—on my side. But, after the way you lied to me before the suit, the way you’ve allowed Hen and Eddie and almost everyone else in this house treat me like I’m less than nothing, a moron, a person incapable of doing a job I care more for than even my own life? After the way you ignored the tests I passed, the records I set, every successful rescue I have to show for my skills? After I had my clots and still saved all those people during the tsunami—including your son,” he said, pointing at Eddie, before turning back to Bobby. “After you made me feel like I was worthless, like I was going mad, like everything I ever believed about myself and my identity was meaningless? I’ve realized you were right all along, Captain Nash.” Bobby tilted his head in confusion, seemingly prepared to respond, when Buck cut him off. “'This is not a family'. And it’s 'your house, your rules'. You let this happen; you let them all do this to me.”

His sorrow had quietly morphed into a resigned anger the longer he talked, words coming out that he hadn’t planned but refused to stop—Captain Sayre’s advice singing in his head. And when Buck’s gaze pierced Eddie’s, he couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t want to leave, but you gave me no choice.”

It was as though all the sound, all the air, had been sucked out of the 118. No one spoke; no one breathed. It was like they’d all forgotten how. But Buck wasn’t finished yet.

“I didn’t ask to be crushed by a ladder truck. I didn’t ask to have a pulmonary embolism. I didn’t ask to go through a tsunami. But I did go through all those things. And I made it. I worked, and I fought, and I lived, all so that I could come back to this job and all of you. Because despite all of you having lives outside the 118, this place and all the people in it were all I believed I had. At least, I did believe that; until somebody reminded me that I do have more to live for, that I do have real family that loves me and wants me to be happy and do what I love without having to question every step I take while doing it.”

“So,” Buck said, picking up his bag from where it had dropped on the floor in the midst of his speech. “That’s where I’m going.” He looked at the people that used to be his friends, his team, but not his family. They all had complex grimaces on their faces: Hen’s a mixture of guilt and sadness, tears sticking in the corners; Bobby looking like he was sifting through his brain, trying to find something to say; and Eddie, he managed to somehow look both furious and heartbroken at the same time.

In another life, it might have made Buck quake with concern and a need to fix whatever had gone wrong for this man he cared so much for. But now, Buck didn’t have anything left. He was done.

Turning to leave, he felt a soft hand grasp his shoulder, and he turned—surprised, yet not, to see Hen had stopped him. “Buckaroo, please. Don’t go. Let us fix this. We can fix this; we have to. You can’t just…”

The look in her eyes, the tears on her cheeks, had Buck’s heart—what little he had left for the 118—breaking. He felt a tear run down his cheek before placing his hand over top of Hen’s. He held it there for a second before sliding it off him. “I’m sorry, Hen. I really am, more than I bet any of you could comprehend or want to believe. This…this was never what I wanted. But, it’s too late. I have to go.” He squeezed her hand one last time before looking up at his former captain. “Thank you, Captain Nash, for the opportunity to learn what I could from you and this crew. I can only hope you’ll find a worthy replacement.”

Buck looked over at Chimney, nodded to him, and simply said, “I’ll see you, Chim,” before he turned to go. As he got to the top of the stairs, he turned back one more time, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Meeting his eyes, Buck couldn’t decipher what he saw there, but it felt similar to how he felt being called “Buck” again; it felt like Eddie was burning somewhere deep inside his mind, too far down for anyone to reach. Inhaling deeply one last time, Buck looked at him, narrowed his eyes and said with as protective a tone as he could manage, “Take care of him, and watch out for yourself.”

Shockingly, a tear fell from Eddie’s eye and after what felt like an eternity, he clenched his jaw and nodded to Buck, sharply and just once. And, knowing this was probably the last time he’d set foot in the 118 or see this crew—except Chimney—again, Buck allowed a small, watery smile to cross his face and he softly whispered to them all, “Stay safe.”

And with that final wish, Buck quickly and quietly descended the steps and walked out of the 118 for the very last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my longest chapter to date, so I hope you enjoyed it! I loved writing these scenes, but I can't wait to share the second half with you. I think it's some of the best writing I've done fic-wise, and I really hope you'll like it. I'm aiming to have that chapter out either tonight or tomorrow because I didn't want to be sharing part 1 too separately from part 2. In that chapter, you'll see the really tough goodbyes and a surprise look into Buck's past straight from the fireman's mouth. Keep an eye out for it!
> 
> Comments, kudos, or critiques are always always appreciated! Thank you again for reading and don't forget to take care of yourselves! ♡


	7. Running Out of Time, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck says his hardest goodbyes, and realizes he can let go of what's gone without losing who isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is Part II of Buck's farewells! I'm really proud of this chapter, and I do think it's some of the best writing I've done in a while. I truly hope you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> I must must MUST preface this with the warning to mind the tags. This chapter does contain some brief descriptions of the September 11th attacks and the loss of a minor character. There are no graphic descriptions, but there is mention of certain real-life moments that occurred during that tragedy that could be triggering or upsetting. I do not really plan to ever get graphic with that particular event in this story, but I can't ignore its significance to Owen's life or the way I've linked it to my version of Buck's life. There is a possibility it could come up again in future chapters, but I would inform you the same way I am now: with a gentle warning of proceeding with caution and being sure to care for yourself!
> 
> As usual, I own nothing except my own little delusions and any mistakes are the product of my exhausted brain. Feel free to comment, critique, or cry in my inbox. I'm always happy to commiserate over heavy emotions and lots of punctuation. Thank you again for reading!

Once he walked out the doors of the 118, Buck had fled to his car as fast as his feet would take him. His talk had gone both worse and better than he’d expected, and he was glad he still had an hour to collect himself before meeting Christopher and Carla.

Speeding out of the lot, Buck headed straight for Monterey Park. After a few minutes of driving, he realized his hands were still shaking and he took turns pulling first his left, then his right off the wheel to shake the nerves out of them. He also took several deep breaths, doing his best to fend off his anxiety.

Buck reached the playground side of the park with a half hour to spare and, as he found a spot, he was surprised to notice he had mostly calmed down. His mind felt clearer than it had in a long time, and he couldn’t figure out if it was from the cleansing conversation with the 118 or because he was about to see Christopher for the first time in almost five months.

Deciding to get out and stretch his legs, he headed over to the fence surrounding the play area. Leaning against it, he checked the time again and, seeing as he had a few minutes, decided to make a quick call. He clicked through his contacts and dialed.

**“Are you okay?”**

“Well, hello to you too, cousin.”

**“Okay, yes, hello, Evan. How are you doing? How’s the weather? I heard the Lakers are having a good season. Okay, are we done now? Good. So, tell me, are you okay?”**

Buck chuckled at TK’s sarcasm and wiped a hand down the back of his neck. “I’m actually…not too bad. It didn’t go down like a picnic, but it wasn’t a total disaster either. And, bonus, nobody hit me. So…that’s a good thing, I guess?”

**“Psh, I’d like to have seen them try. You’re too quick for that. And besides, you know that ridiculous mug of yours doesn’t need any more marks on it.”** TK laughed at his very much tired joke and Buck found himself grinning.

“Yeah, cause that one _never_ gets old! So, do you actually want to know what happened or do you just want to keep making bad jokes?”

**“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”** TK’s attempts to smother his laughter were, as usual, funnier than the joke itself was. **“You’re right; go ahead. Tell me all about it.”**

And so, as quickly as he could summarize with the time he had, Buck told TK what happened with the 118. His cousin was silent for a few moments before deadpanning, **“Well, I have got to meet this Chimney guy. He actually doesn’t sound half bad.”**

“Seriously, Tyler? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

**“Give me a minute; I’m processing.”** Buck spent the next few moments picking at a splintering paint chip on the fence, while listening to TK tapping some sort of beat on the other end of the phone. **“Okay, well, I can’t say I’m surprised they took it badly. Either it’s because they’re losing their whipping boy or it’s because they’re genuinely sorry to be losing you. I’d hope it’s option B, but from everything you’ve told us, at this point, who knows? But how do you feel about how it went?”**

“I mean…am I sorry it came to this and I’m leaving? Yeah, it’s basically the last thing I wanted. I thought I would come back and things would eventually blow over and I would just be part of the 118 pretty much until I died—or until they forced me to retire. But, obviously, that’s not how it happened, and I think I’m almost ready to accept that.” Saying the words out loud tasted like ash in his mouth, but Buck could feel they were true. And he realized admitting it to someone else almost made him feel freer. “But I think leaving is easier knowing I’ve got you and Uncle Owen waiting on the other end, that Maddie and Chimney have my back, that I’m able to leave this place knowing things will be better once I’m gone. Does it hurt? Yeah, but sometimes even good things hurt right?”

**“That’s right, man, and even if it gets bad before it gets good, at least you know the good is coming. And hey, we’re both a mess right now; maybe we can work together and fix each other.”**

“Yeah, maybe. I just hope the new crew, whoever they are, doesn’t give me grief about where I’m coming from or how I’m getting there. That’s something I’m definitely still afraid of.” The thought of his new crew judging him or trying to hurt him the way the 118 did had Buck gnawing on his lip.

**“Hey, hey, none of that. Look, whatever you decide to tell them is up to you. And if that means telling the truth, then it’s what you do, and we’ll handle the fallout—if there even is any. My dad would never hire a crew he didn’t think could work with us and all the baggage that we carry. He wouldn’t ask you to uproot your whole life to escape people eating you alive only to throw you to new ones who would do the same thing.”**

His cousin’s resolute tone had Buck feeling a lot less anxious about his prospective teammates. He knew TK was right, especially the part about Uncle Owen. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right cuz.”

**“Man, I feel like ‘cuz’ isn’t even the right endearment for us anymore; we may as well be brothers at this point.”**

Buck laughed again in agreement, but knew deep down how true the sentiment was. “Well, Uncle Owen always did tell me I was his favorite kid”

**“Oh please, I’m the favorite and you know it.”**

The pair of men laughed again, bantered for a bit longer, and when Buck looked back up at the playground, he saw Carla walking through the grass with an excited looking Christopher. “Hey, man, listen I gotta go. Chris is here and I’m not sure how long I’ve got with him. I want to make it count.”

**“You got it, Ev. If you need me, you know where to find me.”**

“Always. See you.”

Buck hung up and quickly ran through the park entrance and over to the waiting pair. “Superman!”

“Buck!!”

Buck picked Chris up and swung him around a few times before hugging him as tightly to his chest as he could without smothering the kid. “God, I’ve missed you, Christopher.”

Buck felt a small tear prick his eye and when he pulled back from Chris to look at him, the kid put a small hand on his cheek and smiled at him. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m okay now that you’re here.”

Another tight hug later and Buck could hear the soft ‘ahem’ of a throat clearing. He looked over at Carla and smiled. “Hey, Carla.”

“Buckaroo! Come here and give me some love.” The woman held out her arms and Buck gently set Chris on the ground before falling into her embrace. “I’ve missed you, Buck.”

The sound of his nickname still bad him wincing internally. He’d have to think about what that would mean in his new life, but for now he just smiled. “I missed you too, Carla.”

She pulled back to look at him, her hands grasping his shoulders and squeezing them gently. They looked at each other for a minute, the silent conversation in their eyes saying more than words could. “You’re too thin, Buckaroo,” she said, smiling sadly, before she nodded and turned to Christopher.

“So, little man, how would you like Buck to take you down the slide a few times while I rest my old bones on this bench?”

Christopher looked over at Carla with an affronted expression before he laughed heartily and said, “Carla! You’re not old!”

“Well thank you, sugar. Now, you two go on and have some fun!” And with that, she went over to the nearest bench and sat down, clearly giving Buck some time to enjoy Christopher’s company.

“What do you say, buddy? Want to go down the slide?”

“Yeah!”

And with that, they both headed over to the slide where Buck helped Chris climb up the steps before gently settling behind him on the slide and going down once, twice, three times. Chris decided he wanted to go by himself, so Buck escorted him to the top and then ran back down to meet him at the bottom.

Somewhere along the way, Carla had snuck over with her phone in her hand and was taking photos and videos of the pair of them, the steady click of her camera shutter cluing Buck in.

Eventually, Chris tired of the slide and decided he wanted to swing for a while, so he and Buck headed that way. One of the reasons Carla brought Chris to this park was the specialized swings with belts and other playground equipment it contained for kids with special needs. Chris always loved trying to swing himself, but it gave Buck a warm feeling every time Chris asked for a push. After a while, Buck realized Chris would need to have dinner soon and his time was running out. He needed to tell Chris the truth, as much as he could anyway, and it broke Buck’s heart that it was finally time to say his goodbyes.

“Hey superman,” Buck said, crouching down to Chris’s level and unbuckling him from the swing. “Let’s go over here and talk for a minute, huh?”

The two of them walked back over to the bench where Carla was sitting, Buck figuring it would be better for her to be clued in on the conversation. He set Chris down next to Carla on the bench before sitting down on the grass in front of him. Buck took one look at Chris, the innocent smile playing across his slightly reddened face, and it felt like his heart cracked inside his chest.

Chris tilted his head and frowned. “What’s wrong, Bucky? Why are you crying?”

Brushing a hand across his cheek, Buck realized the little boy was right; he was crying. He smiled gently at Christopher, dropped his head for a moment to wipe his face, and then looked back at him again, trying to find the right words to explain. “I’m crying because I’m sad, buddy. I-I have to go away for a little while. You see, Christopher, my Uncle Owen, he’s a fire captain in New York.”

“Like Bobby?”

“Yeah, Chris, kind of like Bobby. But he’s going to Texas to be a fire captain there, because one of their firehouses had an accident. A lot of people got hurt, and now they need help. He and my cousin, TK, they need my help to rebuild the firehouse, so I’m going to Texas for a while to help them.”

“Texas is where Daddy and I came from.”

Buck laughed at the kid’s memory, his ability to make personal connections to almost everything around him. Grabbing Christopher’s hand, he tried to find the kind of strength the kid possessed. “That’s right, Christopher, you and your daddy are from Texas. And that’s where I have to go, so this is the last time you’ll be seeing me for a while.”

“But…Buck, this is the first time I’ve seen you in forever!”

Buck felt the guilt shoot through him, and he looked over at Carla, wondering what look she must be seeing on his face. Knowing Chris, and Carla, both deserved an answer to his absence, he tried to come up with an age-appropriate explanation.

“Well, you know, kiddo, sometimes when adults go through major accidents—”

“Like you with the firetruck? Or the tsunami?”

“Yeah, Chris, like that. When that happens, sometimes adults get really big feelings that go with that, and we don’t always know where to put those feelings. Sometimes, adults don’t always react so good to those big feelings or events, and they—they have to be apart from each other to figure out how they feel or what they need.”

“Is that why you haven’t been around to hang out with me or daddy anymore?”

The heartbroken look on the little boy’s face had Buck feeling wrecked again. He got up from the grass and picked up Chris from the bench before sitting in his spot and placing Chris across his knees. He angled them both towards Carla and hugged Chris tight to his chest. He tried his best to keep his voice steady, to not sob into Christopher’s hair. “The truth is, buddy, I was really sad for a while because I wasn’t sure I could be a fireman anymore, and I did something not very nice to your daddy and Bobby and everyone else at the 118. And when I got to be a fireman again, I apologized a lot and we all went back to work together. But, sometimes, when adults do something wrong, things don’t get fixed exactly the same way as before. Sometimes, they make mistakes when they put things back together, and it’s not the same as it used to be.”

“Kind of like when you helped me with my logos and the blocks were on backwards and got stuck?”

“That’s exactly right, buddy. Sometimes we try to fix things and it’s not quite right, so we have to take it apart and start over. And sometimes, adults have to go someplace else to figure out how to start over. Going away sometimes means seeing what you’re missing by being too close. Do you understand, Christopher?”

Buck had turned Chris slightly to face him; he wanted to make sure the little boy understood—as best he could—what Buck was saying. It wasn’t a precise explanation, but he hoped it did the job.

“I understand, Buck, I’m just really going to miss you. Are you going to come home soon?”

Buck tried to hide the grimace he was almost sure was crossing his face. He couldn’t look at Carla and it took all his strength to look at Chris without breaking down. “I—I don’t know, Superman. It depends on how long they need my help. A lot of people got hurt and I want to make sure I help as many people as I can, right?”

“Yeah, Bucky, cause you’re a hero!”

Another watery smile crossed Buck’s face, and even though he didn’t feel much like a hero at that moment, Chris’s unyielding confidence in him made him feel at least ten feet tall. “Thank you, Christopher. And I promise you, buddy, no matter how far away or for how long I go, I’ll always be here for you. I’m no more than a Facetime or a phone call away; I promise you.” Buck wasn’t sure if Eddie would ever be persuaded to let Chris call him, but, angel that she was, Carla seemed to know what he was thinking and had an answer ready.

“That’s right, Christopher. We can call Buck anytime you want. Whenever I’m with you, we can always call him.”

Chris smiled at Carla before turning back to Buck and throwing his arms around him. “I’m going to miss you, Bucky. I love you.”

Buck wasn’t sure what he’d done right to have a kid like Christopher in his life, but the thought of being able to see him in some capacity on a semi-regular basis for the first time in months had him nearly sobbing with relief. Not wanting to upset Chris further, he just blinked back the tears, plastered a smile on his face and squeezed Christopher tightly back into his chest. He pressed his face into his strawberry scented curls and tried not to cry more than a few tears. “I love you too, Christopher. More than you’ll ever know.”

They stayed locked in their hug for a while until Buck and Christopher both received comforting brushes through their hair from Carla. Remembering that the kid still hadn’t had dinner, and that he had another even more fierce goodbye to face, Buck decided it was time. “Okay, buddy, you’ve got to get going now. You have to eat dinner and you’ve got school tomorrow, and I’m leaving really early, so I have to go.”

He pulled back from Christopher but kept him on his lap a few minutes more. “Just remember, okay? You can call me anytime you need me and I’m always, always here for you. Even if you can’t see me, I’m right there,” Buck placed his hand gently over Christopher’s heart. “I’ll never truly be gone as long as you remember that. Okay, Superman?”

“I’ll remember, Buck. Does that mean I’m always with you too?”

“Absolutely, buddy. I never stop thinking about you; you’re always right here.” He took Christopher’s hand and placed it over his own heart.

The little boy smiled for a minute and then put both hands on Buck’s cheeks. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

Buck smiled and his head dropped into his lap, fighting off another fresh wave of sorrow. “Thank you, Christopher. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

They shared another tight hug and Buck picked Christopher up before following Carla to her car. She got Christopher’s crutches settled in and his car seat ready before stepping away. Buck hugged Christopher to his chest one more time, pressing a kiss to his curly mop, and secured him in his seat. “I love you, Christopher. Be good and be safe, okay? Listen to your dad and Carla and tell Abuela and Tía Peppa I’ll miss them.”

“I will, Bucky. You be safe too. You’re a hero and we need you.” He pressed a little hand to Buck’s face one more time. “I love you, Buck.”

Buck squeezed his hand over Christopher’s and chuckled lightly. “I never get tired of hearing that.” And with another ruffle of Christopher’s curls, Buck closed the kid safely inside the car. He took a deep breath and turned to face Carla, hoping against hope he didn’t look as wrecked as he felt.

“Aw Buckaroo…” she opened her arms for a hug and he all but flew into them. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I thought I’d done enough damage. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else,” he whispered through the tears leaking down his face.

“Anyone except yourself, you mean?” she asked, pulling back from their hug and placing both hands on his cheeks. “Honey, you deserve to feel everything you do. You don’t deserve to be punished for it. And caring for people often means forgiving them. I’m sorry that didn’t happen for you.”

He smiled sadly before closing his eyes and leaning into her hands, relishing in the comfort she offered. “Thanks, Carla. I’m sorry, I just—I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want Christopher to pay the price. I was afraid if-if you knew things were bad at the House then…you might leave. And Christopher, he needs you! And—and Eddie, he needs you too. I didn’t want—”

“Okay, okay, Buckaroo, it’s alright. Just breathe,” she moved her hands to his shoulders and pressed her fingertips lightly, grounding him. “It doesn’t matter how mad I may get at Eddie or the 118 for whatever it is they’ve done—including whatever you didn’t say to Christopher. I’d never leave that little boy; I want you to know that. I’ll be here for him as long as needs me. Mama bears always take care of their cubs, even if they weren’t always theirs to start with. You got that, handsome?”

Buck laughed at her metaphor before nodding and wiping his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.” Checking the time, he realized it really was getting late and Carla had to get Chris home. And, he did have one more person he needed to see.

“Time to go, then?”

“Yeah, it is.” Pulling her into another tight hug, Buck relished in the comforting strength that was Carla, trying to keep some of it for himself. “I’m going to miss you, Carla.”

“Oh, Buckaroo. I’m going to miss you too. But don’t worry, I’m only a phone call away. And who knows,” she pulled away with a smile. “Maybe I’ll take a trip to Austin one day and you can show me what Texas is all about.”

Buck laughed again and squeezed her hands. “You got it.”

She pulled his face down to her level and gave him a peck on the forehead. “You take care of yourself, Buck. Stay safe; no overly daring rescues. And make sure you call me every once and a while, okay?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, she nodded and moved around the car to get in. After she’d started up the SUV and rolled down her window, Buck slid over next to it. “Carla?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Take care of them for me?”

She cocked her head and got that smile that always said she knew more than she was saying. “You know I will.”

Buck smiled and backed up from the car, waving as it pulled away. He watched until the car’s taillights had completely disappeared into traffic before he took another step. Inhaling a deep breath, he checked his watch again and noticed it was going on eight. He’d have a bit of a drive to get across town and he could only hope traffic wasn’t horrible.

He looked back at the exit where he’d seen Carla’s car one last time, before rubbing his eyes and going back to his Jeep.

Pulling out of the lot, he whispered to himself, “Three down. One to go.”

* * *

Being back at the house where once he’d had so many good and bad moments was bittersweet. He wasn’t sure if he’d be welcomed in, but he had to try.

He couldn’t leave without telling her goodbye.

He knocked twice and waited for the telltale sound of footsteps on the stairs. Buck hadn’t felt this nervous before he said goodbye to Chris, and he had to stow his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from fidgeting.

At last, he heard the quick steps of someone running up the stairs before the door opened. “Buck! Hey! Long time, no see!”

Smiling, Buck nodded his head to the young woman. “Hey May, I know, it’s been a while. It’s good to see you.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“Uh…sure, but is your mom here?”

“Yeah, of course. Mom! Buck is here!”

He followed May over the threshold when she waved him in, but he waited at the top of the stairs for Athena to appear. She stepped out from the kitchen, and Buck had a hard time deciphering the smile on her face.

Buck wasn’t exactly sure what she knew.

“Buckaroo! This is a surprise. What brings you here?”

“I’m—I’m sorry to show up so late or empty-handed. I just—needed to talk to you about something.”

Athena must have seen something in his eyes because she nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and made an “Mhmm” sound. She analyzed him for a minute in typical Athena Grant fashion. “Well,” she finally said after a tense minute. “Why don’t you come in and sit down. May, honey, I’ll finish the dishes. You go on up to your room.”

Her mother’s tone brokered no argument, and May smiled apologetically at Buck. She squeezed his arm once, whispering a quick, “We miss you, Buck,” before disappearing up the stairs to her room. Buck felt a pang in his chest at May’s words and stared wistfully after her, wondering how much of her life he’d missed in the past four months.

“Buck,” Athena said, diverting his attention from his thoughts and waving to a chair. “Come sit down.” He realized she’d already taken a seat at the table and he quickly followed her direction, sitting himself across from her. Ironically, it was the same seat he’d sat in when he found out Bobby had lied to him and his whole life started truly falling apart.

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment, the soft tapping of Athena’s nails the only noise in the room. Finally, Buck couldn’t withstand the silence anymore. “Athena, I’m sorry again to just show up here after…well, everything. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

“I am a tad surprised, Buck, I’ll admit. We’ve barely heard a word from you since you started back at the 118. How has it been going, by the way?”

For a second, Buck almost thought she was being sarcastic. But then he realized from her expression Athena genuinely looked and sounded curious, and that…was definitely unexpected. “Uhm…it’s—what has Bobby told you, Athena?”

“Oh, not too much, you know how he can sometimes be a man of few words. Mostly, he’s just told me you’ve all been keeping busy and that you’ve been a little quieter than usual.”

“That’s it? That’s—that’s all he’s said since I started back?” Buck couldn’t decide what hurt more: that Bobby had lied to Athena or that he could so easily pretend like almost the whole team hadn’t spent the last four months torturing Buck every minute of the day.

“Just about,” she said nodding. “When I asked him why you hadn’t been around much, he just said things were still a tad awkward from all the business with the lawsuit and you’d come around when you were ready.”

Buck wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He sat quietly, trying to think of what to say. He was prepared for Athena to be angry at him, to possibly know about and agree with his punishment by the 118. He even thought maybe he’d have to take a scolding from her too, then he’d make his apologies and say goodbye.

But this? To walk in and have Athena know almost nothing and think the only reason Buck stayed away was because of him feeling awkward around everyone? That was somehow even worse than being yelled at. Because although it was true, Buck certainly did feel awkward around everyone, it was mostly because of the team’s behavior, not because of his lawsuit.

He wasn’t sure if he was more angry or hurt by Bobby’s omission. And it was then Buck realized: he no longer cared.

“Athena, I…I don’t know how to say this but, I didn’t stay away because I felt awkward. I mean—well, I did, but the truth is I stayed away because—because I wasn’t wanted. I was never invited or asked by anyone.” Buck tried not to let his voice waver, nor did he try to sound like he was fully blaming the team—despite the fact that—by this point—he’d essentially accepted they were the ones mostly in the wrong with everything.

“What do you mean, Buck?”

“What I’m saying is…in the four months that I’ve been back at the 118, Athena they—they all hate me. Everyone but Chimney, they yell at me and treat me like I’m nothing, like I can’t do my job anymore. They criticize me and they question every little thing I do.” Buck did his best to choke down the emotions threatening to smother him. “When I’m on calls, they let me do what I need to, and then when we’re at the House, they break down everything I did and let me know all the ways I could have done better. And when—when they’re not doing that, they just—they ignore me. It’s like if I’m not doing something wrong for them to yell at me about, I don’t even…exist.”

It was a struggle to finish telling Athena, her face going darker and darker with every word, until his sentence had trailed off in a whisper of the word ‘exist’. They sat in silence for a minute, Athena’s thoughts obviously going a mile a minute from the way she was looking at Buck. It wasn’t until she raised her hand towards his face, the dark look still lingering, and he winced that her expression finally softened.

“Oh, Buck, honey,” Athena’s face broke a little at what she must’ve seen in his eyes and she gently caressed his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m not mad at you; I promise. I’m just trying to sort out what to say without storming out of this house in a furious rage. You know how I can be.”

That had the both of them chuckling lightly—despite the tension—and Buck looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, Athena. I didn’t mean to—to bring this to you like this. I honestly thought you knew and were okay with what was going on. I’d never imagined I’d get here, and you’d have no clue. I really just thought I’d come in, tell you I was leaving, say my apologies and goodbyes, and then go. I never thought—”

“Woah, woah, Buckaroo. First of all, I would never be okay with anyone treating you like that. It’s not just u acceptable; it’s unreasonably cruel and don’t think I won’t be doing something about it when we’re done here. But, what are you talking about? What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“Oh, right, um—” Buck cringed, remembering why he was there in the first place. “Well, you see, Athena, I—I got a job offer from Austin Fire and Rescue. They lost almost an entire ladder last year—the 126. And my Uncle Owen, he’s a captain out of New York with the 252. After 9/11, he was the lone survivor of the 252 and he rebuilt the entire house from the ground up. Austin FD came to him and asked him to come to Austin and rebuild the 126, and when he heard about everything that was going on with me here, he offered me a spot. AFD knew about my record and everything, but my merits spoke greater volumes than my mistakes I guess because they offered me a transfer immediately. I’m leaving early tomorrow morning and driving straight through to Texas.” Buck sighed, the sting of what he’s leaving behind still clinging to him, albeit a little softer than the minutes before. “It’s—it’s a really good job, Athena. And it will be with good people who will—hopefully—not give me the same kind of trouble I made for myself with the 118. At least, with my family-- with my Uncle and my cousin—I know I won’t have to worry.”

Athena smiled at him, placing a comforting hand on his and squeezing. “It does sound great, Buckaroo. But, how come you never mentioned your Uncle or cousin before? I mean, before Maddie, none of us even knew you really had family, baby.”

“Well, I don’t talk about my family much because it’s—it’s kind of a mess. Maddie and Owen and TK are really all I have. My…my mother and my stepfather don’t really talk to or even acknowledge me. They basically haven’t since I was kid. When I wasn’t with Uncle Owen, I was essentially on my own.” Buck shrugged, trying to downplay something that had always made him unhappy but that he’d never been able to change.

Athena wouldn’t have it.

“Buck, honey, that’s terrible. Why would they do that to you?”

“It’s—it’s kind of a long story. I don’t usually talk about it…to anyone. Maddie doesn’t really either. But, I guess I can give you the highlights. Um…” Buck chewed on his lip, trying to decide what information would simplify everything best, and what he felt most comfortable sharing. “Basically, it started with 9/11. My Uncle and my—my father, Killian, met in the academy in New York, and they became firemen together. They worked for different houses, but they stayed good friends, and my Uncle introduced his sister—my mother, Julia—to my father. They fell in love, got married, had Maddie, and seven years later, they had me. They’d been trying for a while to have another kid; I guess I’m always just a little late to the party.”

They both laughed lightly at his joke and Buck rubbed one hand along the back of his neck, working some of the tension away. “Things were…they were really good for a while—what I can remember at least. My parents were so in love with each other, so happy. From what little my Uncle has ever told me, most people found it ridiculous how in sync they were with each other. People always say that, right? That couples who are “so in love” never fight? But for my parents, it was actually true. And they loved Maddie and I, so much. They were both so…so involved. You know? I mean my dad was always busy because he was a fireman, but he still made as much time for us as he could every second that he was around. And my mom, she was a librarian with the city, so she was always home more and filled in the few gaps left when dad wasn’t able to be there. She spent so much time teaching us about books and the importance of knowledge and information. It’s—it’s kind of why I’m always obsessed with reading about things and learning as much as I can about—about everything.”

Athena smiled at his shrug and squeezed his hand again. Buck smiled at her, momentarily enjoying the memories of his family’s happy times, until the dark cloud overcame his mind again.

“My parents were both just these—these larger than life people. But…then…the towers fell.” He paused for a minute, trying to organize his thoughts from the tangled web they usually were whenever he thought about that time. “My—my dad was with Ladder 391 and my Uncle was with the 252. Both squads went, of course, but the 391 got there first. Dad was on the ground for a while, trying to help evacuate citizens from the North Tower, but then they got the order to evacuate the South Tower. He…he was inside when it collapsed. Him and most of the 391 were lost, but Uncle Owen didn’t find out my dad was in the South Tower collapse until hours later. By then, there was nothing anyone could do.”

Buck’s voice broke halfway through describing his father’s death. Even so, the words came surprisingly easy, despite how painful they were to talk about after more than a decade of trying to forget it. “They—they didn’t recover Dad’s body until about a week after that. My uncle was thankfully mostly unharmed—physically, at least—but things were never the same. Owen was devastated being the sole survivor of the 252, not to mention losing his best friend—his brother. He threw himself into work; he was so preoccupied with rebuilding the 252, he and my Aunt Gwen split up, and he didn’t get to see TK all that often. My mom—well, she didn’t ever really recover after that day. She kind of lost all the light she had, like when the Tower crushed my father to death, it took her down with him. Maddie started taking care of me, even though she had been away at college when it happened. She took a leave of absence and came back to help my mom—as best she could anyway.”

He rubbed his eyes, unsurprised to find tears there, but he couldn’t look at Athena, choosing instead to stare down at his hands. Buck knew if he broke his concentration now, he’d never be able to finish. Athena seemed to sense his difficulty and she squeezed his hand again. “Go on, Evan,” she said gently, and if he had more presence of mind in that moment, he might’ve been surprised by her use of his first name. Instead, he followed her direction.

“Maddie stayed with me and mom for a few months, helping me with my homework, taking me back and forth to Uncle Owen’s, to school, or to counseling appointments. A lot of children of first responders lost in the attacks were sent to therapists; I guess they figured it would help us or something. I don’t know if it really did for me or not; I didn’t talk very much back then, and when I did, it was mostly to Maddie or Owen or TK. I couldn’t even talk to my mom; she was so removed from everything for a while. After a month or so, we all tried to get her out of bed, then out of the apartment, and then back to work. The city lost so many people that day, so many workers or loved ones, city supervisors mostly understood when those left behind had a hard time restarting their lives again. It wasn’t like we were hurting for money or anything, insurance took care of all that, but I guess eventually even my mom got sick of staring at the same twelve walls every day.”

Evan sighed, knowing he was almost done, but hating this next part. Wishing he never had to remember any of this, he plowed on. “About six months after…that day, she met this guy—Marcus—at a coffee shop near the library where she worked. I’m still not sure what she saw in him; he’s this lawyer, cold and calculated, nothing like I remember my father being. But, then again, by that point my mother wasn’t really who I remembered either. She was like this…empty version of herself. She’d respond when you talked to her, she’d function and put food on the table, and she’d mostly show up when we needed her to. But it was like she turned off any emotions; there was nothing there, nothing left, for me or Maddie anymore. It was like she was only present enough to make it from one day to the next, keeping herself alive, and she just didn’t have any energy left for us kids. But, something about Marcus must’ve woken her up because she started spending all her free time with him. He took her out a few times, though—at the beginning—he never came to our apartment, and, while he never seemed to have a problem with me or Maddie, he never made an effort to know us either. Whatever my mom saw in him worked for her though, I guess, because less than a year after the attacks, she’d married Marcus.”

At some point, his throat started to itch from all the talking and Athena quickly grabbed a glass of water and placed it in front of him. He quietly thanked her and took several sips, before he continued again. “By then, it was just mom and I living at our apartment—though, at some point, Marcus became a frequent visitor. Maddie hadn’t been able to stand it anymore, the way mom just sort of floated around, the way she and Marcus essentially ignored us. Before she went back to Pittsburgh, Maddie told me I probably wouldn’t see her for a while, that she wasn’t coming back. I could tell she was sorry, that it killed her to leave me; I believed her when she said that. She just couldn’t take it, the way mom got lost and how everything was, all the memories and the future we should’ve had that was taken from us. I know my sister loved me, but she couldn’t bring my dad back and she wasn’t my mother. It wasn’t her job to stay and fix everything for me. So, after she left, I spent as much time at Uncle Owen’s as I could, whether TK was there or not. A lot of nights that he didn’t have my cousin, Uncle Owen didn’t come home because he’d take as many shifts at the new 252 as he could. So, I’d just go to his apartment and stay there instead of going back to my mom’s. I’m not sure if he even knew how often I used to do that, but if he did, he never said anything.”

Buck stopped to take the last few sips of his water, before getting up to deposit the empty glass in the dishwasher. He stayed with his back to Athena for a few minutes, staring at his warped reflection in the chrome of her tea kettle and sinking into the memories of his adolescence. “Things went on like that for a while, my mom and Marcus kind of coming or going around me, but never really seeing me. Maddie didn’t always take my calls because she’d be busy in class or clinicals, and I’d spend as much of my time with TK as I could. He was—is—my best friend. And even though they’d gotten a divorce, his mom and dad still looked after me like nothing had changed. Gwen would let me stay for dinner or help me with my homework. Owen let me hang out at the firehouse and taught me about all the different equipment and tools. Whenever I was with TK and either of his parents, I had a place in the world. It was easy to pretend like I was a Strand too, that I still had both parents, and my whole life hadn’t fallen apart around me. It was…nice…to pretend every once and a while. But for some reason, Marcus eventually decided he was tired of city living, that we should move somewhere more removed from the hustle of New York. My mom never disagreed with anything he said, and when he got a job with a different firm in Hershey less than a month after deciding for all of us, we moved. I hated him, the both of them. I didn’t want to leave, no matter how much I’d lost in New York already. Losing the only remaining family I had left that loved me was the last thing I expected. But Uncle Owen always took care of me. He got me a cell phone, one that I only used to call him or TK, and whenever I wanted, he’d send me a train ticket to come home to Manhattan. The Keystone line took about three and a half hours on a good day, but it was worth every minute that I didn’t have to be with my mom and Marcus. At least when I was with Uncle Owen and TK, I existed.”

He shrugged again and finally turned back to Athena, grimacing at the sad look on her face. That was the part he hated—the pity; it was the reason he almost never talked about his origins. But this was Athena, and a few simple words from him would’ve never been enough explanation. “And that’s…pretty much how things were for the next six years. I’d spend every free moment in Manhattan, my mom and Marcus hardly noticed where I was half the time, or if they did, they didn’t care. Maddie never came home and then she married Doug and, well, you know how that went. Being in Manhattan so often did end up being a blessing in disguise, for more reason than one…” he trailed off, thinking about TK’s first overdose, before shaking that thought from his mind. “I spent a lot of time at the 252 and eventually I decided I wanted to be a fireman. It was practically a given; I was already a legacy of sorts and Uncle Owen always told me it was in my blood. I double majored at CUNY, and after I graduated, I thought about staying in New York—getting a job with NYFD—but I just…I couldn’t do it. By that point, I’d already lost so much; I felt like, as good as New York was for me over the years, it had cost me practically everything. I couldn’t stay there anymore, no matter how much Uncle Owen and TK tried begging me to stay. I travelled around for a while trying to figure myself out and sort out what I wanted; I spent some time in South America and eventually made my way here to LA…and the 118.”

“And now,” Athena said, rising from her chair and coming to stand in front of Buck. She brushed a hand through the hair on his forehead and smiled at him. “It’s time for you to go again.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. I’m so sorry, for all of it, the lawsuit, and Bobby, and coming here tonight to unload all this on you. I—”

“Evan, baby, you don’t have to apologize. The lawsuit was something I forgave you for months ago, if I ever really needed to at all. If anyone can understand doing everything possible to keep the job they know they’re meant to do, it’s me. And as far as you sharing your history with me,” she grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight again. “I’m honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to tell me. It can’t have been easy to talk about all that after so much time and so much hurt. I’m just so sorry that you had to go through all of it at all, that there have been so many people in your life who’ve left you or let you down—whether they wanted to or not. Nobody deserves that, sweetheart, least of all you. You’re too good for this world, Evan Buckley, and I’m so sorry that it’s kicked you around as often as it has.”

Buck dropped his head to stare at his shoes, feeling the familiar sting in his eyes again. He felt like all he’d done the past few days was cry and it was getting ridiculous. But, when he looked back up into Athena’s eyes, he saw the motherly affection he’d been denied for decades. It pierced him in a way that seemed to both hurt and heal him in equal measure, and he asked for something he hadn’t had in a while, “Can I have a hug?”

Without saying a word, Athena pulled him against her and held him tightly. Despite being shorter and not nearly as broad, Athena managed to fold herself around Buck in a comforting embrace. He could feel her hand on the back of his neck, rubbing a little of the tension away and gently brushing through the locks of hair curled there. They stayed that way, locked in a tight embrace, for a few minutes, while Buck tried to memorize the way it felt to be held by a mother—even if it wasn’t his own.

When they finally released each other, Buck took a deep cleansing breath and rubbed his hands over his face again before shoving them in his pockets. He felt a little embarrassed over his reaction to his confession, and he couldn’t look up from the floor. “Hey, now,” Athena said, gently tipping his chin up with her hand. “None of that, Buckaroo. It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel whatever you do. Don’t ever forget that. You are entitled to every emotion, no matter what anyone else thinks. You hear me?”

The low-level, Athena Grant-ferocity was clear in her tone and it made him smile. Giving her a mock salute, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and they both shared a laugh.

“I’m really going to miss you, Buckaroo.”

“I’ll miss you too, Athena. More than I can probably express, to be honest. You’re the first real, well, anything close to a mom I’ve had in a really long time. Thank you for that.”

“Anytime, baby. I don’t care how far away Austin is. You can always call me, day or night. I know I haven’t been around these past few months like I wish I had been, but I’m here for you now—in whatever way you need.” Athena squeezed his hand again, her sincerity clear in her expression despite the regret he could see in her eyes. But then she added some levity to the room and said, “I expect you to give me a call with updates, mister! Rebuilding an entire Ladder company is a big deal, and I want to hear all about it.”

“You got it, ‘Thena.” Laughing again, he pulled her in for another hug. His eyes flicked to her kitchen clock and, noticing how much time had passed, he knew he had to go. Giving her one last squeeze, he said quietly, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too, Evan,” she said, enjoying the hug another second more before pulling away. “This is goodbye then?” She tilted her head to look at him and he nodded. “Well, alright, but first. A few things? Always make sure your phone is charged and your emergency kit is in your Jeep. Wherever you move to, get flood insurance and an ice scraper. Possibility of floods are high and there is a greater chance of cold or ice there then there ever will be here. No unnecessary risks or bold rescues—if you can avoid it, and make sure you call me when you arrive, so I know you’re safe.”

Buck nodded along to every instruction and he stood there for another minute, enjoying the feeling of a mother being worried about him.

“And one more thing, Buckaroo?”

“Yeah, Athena?”

“If you ever get into trouble, if you ever need me, I’ll be there. I’ll come for you. Never be afraid to ask, okay?”

He smiled at the promise in her tone and nodded. “I won’t, Athena. Thank you…for everything.”

Athena brushed a hand over his forehead and cupped his cheek again. “You’re welcome, baby. Anytime.”

The pair of them headed towards the door when May and Harry suddenly came around the corner of the hallway. They both looked sad and Buck knew they’d heard at least some of what he and Athena had talked about. May came forward first and threw her arms around Buck. “I’m going to miss you.”

Buck hugged her back and smiled. “I’ll miss you, too, May.”

May stepped away and Harry came forward, giving Buck a smaller, but no less heartfelt, hug. “Will you come back?”

It was the same question Christopher asked and his response was no less complicated. “Maybe, Harry, but I’m not sure when. But, hey,” he said stepping out of the hug and back from the kids. “Like I told your mom, I’m just a few phone clicks away, okay? You can call me anytime.”

The Grant children nodded and smiled sadly at him. Buck halfheartedly wagged a finger at them and put on a mock serious expression. “You kids be good for your mom and dad and Bobby, you hear? Kick ass the rest of senior year, May. Harry, no causing trouble or setting any lawn fires. And both of you, always make sure your parents know where you are.” He leaned down and whispered, conspiratorially, but loud enough for Athena to hear. “But, if you ever need bail money, call me and I’ll help you out.”

They all laughed when Buck turned to wink at Athena—who rolled her eyes affectionately, before the three of them walked him out to his Jeep. After another quick round of hugs and a peck on the cheek for Athena, Buck smiled and saluted again before hopping in the car. Just as he was about to pull out of the driveway, he looked back at the three Grants and said, “You guys take care of your mom, okay? We all need her.”

Surprisingly, it was Harry who responded first: “We promise, Buck.” May nodded in agreement and said, “We won’t let you down, Buck.”

Athena pulled both of her kids into her sides and they all waved goodbye to Buck. He smiled one last time, waved back, and then turned his car around to head back to his apartment, only a fraction of him still wishing he could stay.

Saying all the goodbyes he had, the good ones and the bad, had been difficult for him, but they weren’t the hardest losses he’d ever faced in his life. Sharing his tragic past with Athena proved to him that he’s known real, genuine loss; that he has known deep, soul-shattering pain. And as much as the 118 had hurt him, as much as he felt broken by what they’d done, it still wasn’t the worst of the worst things that had happened to him.

Not by a long shot.

So as hard as it was to say goodbye to Chris, Athena and the kids, Carla, or even the 118, Buck knew he’d get over it eventually—maybe even less worse for the wear. He wasn’t sure what it would take for him to get there, what else he may have to suffer through first before he could let go the last of the trauma LA had slapped him with, but he knew eventually everything would be okay.

With a renewed sense of hope—however melancholy it still might seem—flowing through him, Buck knew he was truly ready to leave LA. He finally accepted that he would be able to walk away from this city knowing he’d done the best he could for who he could and there would be nothing holding him back. He also decided he’d try his hardest to take Chief Sayre’s advice.

When he left for Austin, he wouldn’t take the guilt with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last! We finally learn more about (my version of him anyway) Buck's life pre-118! I truly hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. I've had a lot of fun working on intelligent Buck and compassionate Chimney, but I really wanted to capture the innocence of Christopher and the motherly side of Athena here. Hopefully, I did that successfully!
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I'm hopeful it will be less than a week from now. Feedback is always appreciated and thank you again for reading!


	8. This Won't Be For Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck makes the journey to his new home, encounters quite a bit of kindness along the way, and maybe even runs into a few familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for your patience with me, and I am so so sorry this took as long as it did to come out. Believe me when I say, this has been an extremely busy month and half for me and writing was just not coming easy AT ALL. But, at last!, it's finally here! 
> 
> In this chapter, you'll get to see Buck's journey to Austin, including a few surprises and people we know very well! I know this one is shorter than the previous few, but that's only because the next chapter is a BIG one. And I can definitely promise that will be coming to you much faster than this did!
> 
> As usual, all errors are my own, I (sadly) own nothing involving any of the 9-1-1 universes, and I truly hope the chapter has been worth the wait. Thank you again to all my devoted, extremely patient readers out there! I adore you all and I hope you enjoy!  
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Evan Buckley had never been one for signs, but he was pretty sure the universe was trying to tell him something.

* * *

_His departure from LA had been fairly simple, if a little quiet—despite Maddie’s tears and the frustration of getting everything organized in the truck._

_Buck picked the massive vehicle up Wednesday night after saying his goodbyes to Athena and the kids. He spent the rest of the evening rearranging boxes and furniture, as well as finalizing the order in which things would go in the truck in just a few hours’ time._

_He’d turned in early to make sure he was up and ready to start moving at four am. By the time his sister and Chim arrived at five as promised, he had all the boxes, lighter furniture, and his bed—miraculously easy to disassemble—packed safely into the back of the truck. He’d also prepped his jeep to hitch it up once the truck was packed and closed. Chim turned out to be a great help, and, between the pair of them, they’d had his mattress, couch, dining set, armchair, and the rest of his possessions packed up—without making too much noise or bothering the neighbors._

_While he and Chim got the Jeep hooked up to the truck’s hitch, Maddie quickly ran to the nearest Starbucks, bringing back coffee and pastries for him to take with him. The gesture was simple but so typical-Maddie. His sister had always been the thoughtful one._

_Once everything was locked up or hooked on securely, Buck made sure he had his necessary documents, laptop, duffel bag, and traveling supplies stowed in the cab of the moving truck. While he was organizing the space, he took a few minutes to collect himself and wipe away the tears he knew Maddie didn’t need to see. He put on a brave face and hopped down, finally ready to say his last goodbyes._

_Maddie’s tears started again almost immediately, but she smiled through them and grabbed him in a fierce hug. “You call me every hundred miles or so, okay? Just so I know you’re alright?”_

_“Don’t worry, Mads. I will.”_

_“And please, little brother, for the love of me and my sanity, don’t be reckless. Take care of yourself; watch out for Uncle Owen and TK. Make sure you eat right, drink enough water, steer clear of rogue bulls.” She pulled back from the hug but kept her arms around him. “You know, the usual.”_

_The pair of them laughed at her joke and Buck nodded again. “You got it, Maddie. Watch for the local wildlife and make sure I call you plenty.”_

_“And most importantly, be safe.”_

_Buck nodded again and gave her one last hug, hiding his face in her umber locks. He tried to memorize the smell of her perfume—jasmine and cloves, the feeling of her hug—something he’d missed for so long, and the sound of her voice—always so comforting for him._

_He pulled away from her and looked to Chim, his brother in all the ways that mattered. Before he could say a word, the shorter man approached and pulled him into a vice-like hug. Surprised at the reaction, Buck clung to his friend and tried not to let the emotions overwhelm him. He felt his voice crack when he whispered, “You take care of her, you hear me?”_

_“Always,” Chimney said. It wasn’t just a promise, Buck knew, but a vow. This time Chimney pulled away first but kept a firm hand on Buck’s shoulder. “You be careful, Buckaroo. Watch your six. And if you ever need us, we’re there; no questions asked. You’re my brother; I don’t turn my back on family.”_

_Chimney acknowledging something Buck also felt in return had him swelling with pride. To know for sure that he had another brother—in addition to TK—out in the world who cared about him, and who cared for Maddie, made this whole situation that much easier to handle._

_He knew with certainty now that he could walk away from this place, and everything would be okay here. Maddie was safe and happy, Chim understood and would watch out for things, and Buck…Buck could go find himself again._

_Buck stepped away from the pair, before he smiled and nodded again. Knowing it was time, he hopped into the truck, got himself and his GPS sorted, and turned over the engine. Rolling down the window, he ignored the pang in his stomach at Maddie’s red eyes and the melancholy smile on Chimney’s face. “I love you guys. It’s going to be okay. I’ll call you when I hit Arizona.”_

_They smiled and nodded, but before he could pull away, Maddie said, “Evan, one last thing.” She paused and he waited a moment for her to collect herself. “Be happy, okay? But, do it for you; don’t do it in spite of them.”_

_His sister’s piercing gaze punched right through him and Buck couldn’t ignore how exposed that made him feel. He knew it was a good thing, Maddie knowing exactly what to say, even if what she said didn’t feel that great right now. He nodded solemnly in agreement, before allowing himself to smile back at her again. He committed to memory the image of his sister held safely by the man who loved her, knowing they both understood why he was doing this._

_Buck felt a quiet joy in that knowledge and acceptance, before giving them a cheeky smile. “Ya’ll be good now, ya hear?” They laughed at his joke, and he gave a final wave before pulling out of the apartment’s lot. He allowed himself one gaze in his rearview, the sight of Maddie and Chim’s waves bolstering him, before he turned away and looked towards the horizon._

_The sun had just started to rise, and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. With the sound of his GPS instructing him over the dulcet tones of Lewis Capaldi, Buck headed towards the I-10, ready to merge onto the highway and get started with his new life._

* * *

Getting out of LA had gone far easier and quicker than Buck had anticipated. There was little traffic on the I-10, no construction or accidents, and by the time he’d hit Indio, barely an hour and a half had gone by.

He practically flew through the desert, calling Maddie when he hit Ehrenberg, as promised. He didn’t talk for very long, sure that this easy start to the trip wouldn’t last and something was going to come along to fumble him up like it always did.

Buck simply told her the trip was going well and he’d call her again when he reached Phoenix.

Despite trying to be positive and flippant, the ease of the trip continued to make Buck wary. He reached Phoenix in a little under five hours, despite traveling a safe speed, anticipating traffic problems, and constantly feeling like something was sure to disrupt the trip at some point. That’s just how life was for Evan Buckley; things were good until they weren’t.

Sure, he wanted this new life he was starting to be as great as he hoped, but experience told him things didn’t always happen that way.

Trying not to be negative or paranoid was an exercise of his will.

Buck pulled off the highway in Phoenix at a Flying J, filled up the truck, and updated Maddie again. They chatted for a few minutes, then Buck decided to grab some more food and coffee for the road.

Everyone in the truck stop was unexpectedly friendly and polite. When he went to fill up his travel thermos, one of the employees directed him to a fresh carafe. Another offered him up a free breakfast sandwich, stating the customer ahead of him had done one of those “Pay It Forward” deals. He decided he’d do the same when he paid, before he turned to the coolers to grab drinks and snacks for the next leg of his journey.

When he approached the register, the cashier politely made small talk and asked about his trip. When the older man, Ezra, heard Buck was planning to get back on the I-10 for Texas, he told him to take the Loop 202 freeway instead of driving through Phoenix, claiming it would save him at least a half hours’ worth of city traffic. Buck thanked Ezra and went on his way.

He silently thanked the helpful employee again later as he drove through the gorgeous foothills on the outskirts of Phoenix, saving another thirty minutes as promised.

As Buck drove, he was pleasantly surprised that no one from the 118 had tried to blow up his phone since he left. He’d received “Stay safe!” and “Good luck!” texts from both Athena and Carla that morning, along with Owen and TK’s “Can’t wait to see you!” messages. However, he hadn’t received anything from anyone else, and it surprised him how relieved—rather than upset—that made him feel.

The fact that he was glad his old team, people he’d cared so much for, hadn’t tried to stop him from leaving told Evan more than he expected.

Driving through Tucson was the worst part of his trip so far. He’d hit a series of traffic jams on the highway that stemmed from a tractor trailer swerving into another lane of traffic. Despite the brief delay, however, when Buck passed the accident site, he was pleased to see there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries or casualties. Traffic moved easily again once he’d cleared the city limits and drove on through the desert.

As he crossed the state line into New Mexico, Buck marveled at the feelings he got seeing desert and cactus plants again. It’d been years since he’d come through this way from Mexico and he forgot how much the desert vegetation intrigued him. _Maybe I’ll get a miniature cactus for wherever we move into,_ he chuckled to himself.

He hit up another Flying J just off the I-10 in Lordsburg, refueled and restocked on supplies, before calling his sister again. Maddie was pleased he was making such good time, told him she already missed him, and that everything was fine in LA. Buck tried not to linger too long on the phone, eager to avoid any conversation about his former home.

Somewhere, about two hours back in the Arizona desert, Buck decided he wanted to leave LA—and his past there—right where it was. He didn’t want to think about LA anymore; he didn’t want to give anyone he no longer trusted and had left behind further power to hurt him than they already had. So, he figured avoiding thinking about it for a little while couldn’t hurt. Buck knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, of course, but for now, he just wanted to pretend like he was a regular guy moving for no reason other than a new job.

Buck was tired of being the guy that ran away from things. He wanted to be running towards something for once.

After informing Maddie he didn’t have much further to go to reach Texas, Buck quickly hung up and returned to his drive. Another hour and a half of alarmingly easy traffic later, he finally reached El Paso.

He tried to ignore the sting he felt at how the city made him think of Chris and Eddie.

Buck had picked his hotel because it was just off the highway, offered free breakfast, and hadn’t give him trouble about parking his truck and vehicle. The clerk at check-in even offered to upgrade his room to a second-floor suite overlooking his spot in the lot for no additional charge.

Once again, the universe seemed to be on his side and in favor of this move.

Knowing he’d be getting up early again to depart, Buck opted to order dinner through room service and took his time enjoying a long shower. He also called TK to find out how his and Uncle Owen’s trip was going—and to make sure they hadn’t driven each other crazy yet. Owen shouted through the phone, assuring him they were fine, and that TK was exaggerating about Owen’s “old man-style of driving.” Their trip was slightly longer than Evan’s, so they’d gotten an even earlier start that day and stopped in Nashville for the night.

How his Uncle managed to get TK and all their furniture ready to move, not to mention tackle all the other logistics he had, in such a short time amazed Buck to no end.

Then again, this was Owen Strand they were talking about.

They all chatted for a bit about their trips, Owen and TK assuring Buck it was a good sign his travels had been so easy, before they all hung up to eat their dinners. Evan promised he’d send a text when he rolled out the next morning.

After that, rather than calling and potentially being pulled into conversations he didn’t want to be, Buck sent a quick text to Maddie, Athena, and Carla, informing all three that he was safely ensconced in his hotel and would be turning in for the evening. They all sent similar “Glad you’re safe” messages and he smiled at the thought of their concern.

Buck made sure everything was prepped and ready to go for tomorrow morning before checking his door locks and climbing into bed. He was sore from all the day’s driving and knew he’d have more tomorrow, so he tried to get as comfortable as possible.

Thankfully, almost immediately after settling in, he fell into a deep sleep and didn’t rouse again until his alarm went off at five. It surprised him how rested he felt, and it gave him hope that his sleep would continue to be better than it had been up until a few days ago.

Getting all of his stuff together didn’t take that long, and before he knew it, Buck was dressed and ready for the day. He grabbed a quick breakfast in the hotel restaurant and checked out. After a quick review of the truck and his jeep, ensuring nothing was amiss, he rolled out of the hotel lot and headed for another truck stop.

He filled the truck up, grabbed his coffee and usual assortment of road food, and got back on the I-10. Thanks to his early start, traffic was lighter again, and Buck allowed himself to enjoy the Texas landscape in the growing light of the morning. Most of the landscape was flat and not unlike the deserts he’d driven through in Arizona and New Mexico, but today there was a series of storms brewing off in the distance. Luckily, the weather seemed to be heading west instead of east, so he didn’t think he’d run into any precipitation problems.

Buck made one final stop at a Flying J in Fort Stockton, marveling at the way truck stop cuisines changed from state to state. It’d been years since he’d had really good Tex Mex and Buck was eager to get his hands on some as soon as he reached Austin. He quickly called Maddie while he filled the truck, assuring her that he was almost to Austin and he’d let her know he’d arrived as soon as he met up with Owen and TK. Chim shouted good wishes from the background on Maddie’s side of the phone and Buck just laughed at the couple’s banter.

After hanging up with them, he quickly called TK to let him know he’d arrive around two, and his cousin informed him he and Owen were running about two hours behind. Apparently, there was an incident with a Nashville alpaca farm that led to some of the animals getting loose and coming too close to the highway. The herd was quickly rounded up and none got hurt, but it led to quite the traffic tie-up. Buck assured them he’d be fine until they reached Austin and they agreed to meet up at the hotel in a few hours.

About two hours from Austin, the flat, desert-like terrain grew into a greener, lush environment. Rolling hills of trees and dry-weather vegetation sprang up out of nowhere, while town after little town started popping up along Highway 290.

When he finally began his entrance into the Austin city limits, Buck couldn’t help but get excited for all the new places he’d have to explore. He knew he’d miss the rolling hills and hiking trails he enjoyed in California, but if this terrain was anything to go by, Buck would have plenty of new places to check out.

Now, if he could just convince TK to go hiking with him…

Buck finally hit city traffic as he crossed over the Colorado River and into downtown, and he thanked his Uncle Owen again for getting a hotel that wasn’t deep in the city or far from the storage facility they’d all agreed on. Before he knew it, Buck was turning off the Lamar Boulevard Bridge, making his way through the West End, and turning into the CubeSmart.

He figured at the very least he could pick up his keys to their storage unit and check out the space. But, Buck’s good luck seemed to have truly followed him all the way to Austin. When the facility manager, Simone, asked what brought him to Austin and Buck told her he was there to help his family rebuild Ladder 126, she immediately got a shine to her eyes.

It seemed that the tragedy of the department’s loss had not fully waned from people’s thoughts. Simone told him if there was anything he needed, he shouldn’t hesitate to ask. So, when he inquired about leaving the moving truck parked there for a few hours until the rest of his family arrived, she reassured him it would be safe in their underground garage.

After instructing him where he should park the U-Haul, Simone even assisted Buck in unhitching his Jeep from the back. Buck thanked her profusely for the kindness and offered to pay for the time he’d be leaving the truck, but the older woman wouldn’t hear of it. “Your business with our facility and your motivations for moving here are payment enough,” she said to him, giving his arm a friendly squeeze.

Starting to get overwhelmed with all the kindness he’d encountered on this trip, Buck decided to take a breather and find someplace that wasn’t a rest stop to eat. Simone proved even more hospitable when she recommended a local spot favored by first responders. She gave him directions to the place and he shook her hand gratefully before taking his leave.

* * *

It took about twenty minutes of driving and hunting for a parking spot before Buck was finally making his way into the plaza of food trucks. It was a small, but cozy area contained by white and brown lattice fence work. The different food trucks made a ring around the series of patio tables topped with island-themed umbrellas that reminded Buck of coconuts. Looking around at the different food options, Buck realized Simone was right: this was a popular spot with first responders. He spotted several men and women in uniform, talking or laughing or enjoying each other’s company, and he couldn’t help the sting he felt in his gut.

He reminded himself that soon he’d have that same camaraderie again.

Decided on tacos, Buck got in line at a shiny chrome trailer bearing the name “Tic Toc Taco” and leaned around a pair of teenagers to see the menu. He figured he deserved to celebrate his arrival so he opted for a Gordita platter with vegetables and rajas con queso. He ordered an iced tea and side of chips with it, before stepping off to the side to wait.

Unfortunately, Buck hadn’t accounted for one of the teenagers who ordered ahead of him to still be standing so close to the window. In his haste to sidestep the kid, Buck accidentally slammed into a solid mass of tan and blue, nearly sending the man—and his tray full of food—flying.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t even see you; it’s completely my fault!” Feeling like an idiot, Buck felt the apologies rush out of his mouth. He wasn’t even in the city an hour, and already, he’d started making a mess of things.

Thankfully, the guy found his footing at the same time Buck reached out both hands to steady him and his tray, securing it from sliding out of his hands and spilling everywhere. When he realized all was accounted for and not on the ground, Buck lifted his eyes to see who he’d run into.

He took in the navy blue uniform, Austin Police Force badge, and the walkie before he made eye contact with the guy. Soft, brown eyes met his blue, and the brown-haired Latino officer smiled at him. “Hey, it’s okay, man. Nothing lost to the pavement. You okay?”

Once again, Buck found himself surprised at someone having a friendly demeanor towards him, especially after he practically barreled the man over like a moron. _I wonder if I’m ever going to get used to people being nice again,_ he thought to himself. “Yeah, sorry, I’m good, man. That kid came out of nowhere.”

“They usually do. I’ve got more than enough young cousins to know how light on your feet you’ve gotta be.” Buck chuckled at the guy’s joke, before the cop deftly switched the tray to his other hand. Offering it to shake, he said, “Carlos Reyes. I’m out of the precinct downtown.”

Buck shook it firmly, but friendly, and responded, “Evan Buckley, just moved here.”

“What brings you to Austin, Evan?”

Buck thought it was odd how nice his first name sounded coming out of someone’s mouth who wasn’t Maddie. It confirmed his notion that maybe leaving his past in LA wasn’t the only thing that could stay there. “New job. I’m here with my uncle and my cousin to rebuild Ladder 126.”

“You’re kidding. Small world, this is. I happen to know your EMS Captain pretty well.”

“Really? I didn’t know the House even still had people working.”

“Well, technically,” a tall brunette in a black EMS uniform said, walking up on Carlos’s other side. “The crew and I are pulling shifts at another House, but we’re still the EMS crew for the 126. Michelle Blake, Captain, Chief Paramedic, and friend of this clumsy oaf.” She stuck her hand out and Buck shook it firmly as he had Carlos’s.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Blake. Evan Buckley, no official title. And, in all fairness, I think I was the oaf here, not Officer Reyes.”

She smiled at his quips, while Officer Reyes shook his head. “Officer Reyes is for when you’re in the back of my squad car. Just call me, Carlos,” he said with a smile and tic of his head.

Buck nodded his agreement, but before he could say anything else, the sound of “Buckley!” came from the Tic Toc window. Buck tried not to wince at the way his last name being shouted made him uncomfortable. He really wish that would stop triggering him the way it did. His last name was going to get thrown around a lot; he had to man up about hearing it.

Buck excused himself to grab his food and when he turned back to the pair, they seemed to be in discussion about something. Figuring he should leave them to it, he said, “It was nice to meet you both. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around soon enough. And, sorry again for the almost-tackle.” As he smiled and turned to head towards a table away from the crowd, Carlos’s band on his shoulder stopped him.

“Evan, wait. Why don’t you join us?”

Buck hadn’t been invited to dine with anyone, save Maddie and Chim, in months. Before he could think about how awkward it’d sound, a soft “Why?” slipped out of his mouth.

Either they didn’t notice his hesitation or they didn’t think anything of it. They simply chuckled and Michelle said, “Why not? We’re going to be working together, after all. Seems like it’d be good to get to know each other. Unless you were meeting someone?”

Buck quickly shook his head no before smiling. “No! I—no, I’m not meeting anyone yet. Thank you; I’d be glad to join you.”

The uniformed duo returned his smile and nodded towards a table a few away from the one he’d been heading for. After taking a seat, Buck dove into his platter and couldn’t help the groan of pleasure that fell out of his mouth. “Holy crap, this is good. It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere with food this amazing.”

Carlos and Captain Blake seemed to appreciate his response to the cuisine. “Yeah, this place had some of the best gorditas in town. A lot of us come here, as you can probably tell,” the latter said, waving a hand around. “Where are you from, Evan?”

“Well, Captain Blake—”

“I’m off the clock, Evan. Michelle is fine.”

“Okay, Michelle. I’m uh—I’m originally from New York, but I’ve been a few different places. Most recently, though, LA.”

“And you left LA to come work for the AFD?” Carlos asked in between bites of fish taco.

“Yeah, my Uncle Owen is going to be the new Captain. He has experience with this type of um—situation.”

Michelle cocked her head to the side. “This situation being?”

Buck hesitated and tried to think of the most delicate way to explain. This was the EMS Captain of the 126, after all. The people who died were her crew members too. “He knows what it involves to rebuild a firehouse from the ground up. He uh—Owen was part of one of the firehouses in New York that…that lost all their people on 9/11.” The pain of recalling the city’s losses on that day—of his own loss—had Evan flinching. “We uh…the family, we almost lost him too, but he was the lone survivor. After it happened and things kind of started settling down, as much as they could anyway, the Chief asked him to rebuild the 252.”

“Wow,” Carlos said. “I’m sorry, man. That that happened to you all I mean. I’m glad you didn’t lose him though, and that you guys are coming down to help us out.”

Buck could tell Carlos was being sincere and not pitying. He reminded himself again that his father had been gone for more than a decade, and yet, the sting of his loss—especially in light of his recent “familial” tie-cutting—felt more fresh than it had in a long time. “Thanks, Carlos. I appreciate that. I just hope we do you guys proud without stepping on too many toes. My Uncle can be…a lot at first. But he’s really a good guy and he’s all heart. He pretends to be the suave type, but underneath he’s just someone trying to do what he can for people. He cares about everyone on his crew, gives everyone a fair shake, and he really cares about TK and me.”

This time it was Carlos who tilted his head in question. “Who’s TK?”

By this point they’d all finished their food and Buck nimbly stacked all the trash on a tray to dispose of in the garbage. Stepping away from Michelle and Carlos gave him a moment to compose himself and move on from melancholy topics to talking about his cousin. “Tyler, or T.K. as we all call him, is my cousin—Owen’s son. We basically grew up together; he’s more my little brother than he is my cousin, honestly. I haven’t seen him in a while, and when I heard he was coming with Owen down here, it just gave me another reason to leave LA.”

Buck realized he’d made a mistake when Michelle finished off the soda she was drinking and asked him, “What was the other reason?”

He tried not to fidget under her piercing gaze; he didn’t want to give anything negative about himself or his past away before he’d even set foot in the firehouse. “Um…I just needed a change, you know? And I figured I could be of better service down here, helping out with the 126.”

She seemed satisfied by his answer, though Buck could tell there were still questions she had. He figured she’d either get to them quickly or try to insert them into conversation the longer they sat and talked. Realizing he wasn’t quite ready to have all his dirty laundry aired out so soon, Buck figured it was time to take his leave.

“Well, listen it was great to meet you both. I appreciate you letting me chill with you guys while I waited for Owen and T.K., but I should probably get going. They’ll be rolling into town anytime now and god knows what kind of reunion we’ll have if I’m late to meet them.” Buck stood and held a hand out to each of them. “Carlos, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. Michelle, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Carlos returned his smile. “I expect you’ll be seeing me again, yeah. Enjoy Austin, Evan, and if there’s anything you need, look me up. I’m always around.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.”

“I’ll be interested to see what you learned in LA, Evan. I’m sure we’ll be able to show you a thing or two down here.” Michelle gave him an impish grin before shaking his hand. “Good luck moving in, and I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Buck turned to leave when Michelle had him turning back. “Evan, if I can give you a piece of advice to pass onto Captain Strand?”

“Sure, Michelle. What’ve you got?”

“Make sure he reads the Travis County manual. Lots of good stuff in there a city guy like him should know.” The older woman winked at him and Buck laughed at the tip.

“I’ll be sure to pass on the advice. Though I can’t guarantee he’ll take it. He’s more of a ‘Learn as he goes’ type.”

The three of them laughed again and Buck gave them both a small salute before taking his leave.

* * *

A few minutes later, as he was getting back in his jeep, Buck received a text from TK that they were about an hour away from Austin. Without thinking much about it, Buck decided to drive over to the 126 and see where he’d be working for the next however long.

As he drove through Austin, Buck couldn’t get over how green the city was. While Los Angeles had its share of vegetation, Austin felt completely different. It wasn’t as though the trees had been planted here after the fact; rather, it seemed as though the city and its urban features grew up around the trees and plants. There was a harmony between the buildings and the trees unlike anything he’d seen in LA. And everywhere he looked, people were happily milling about, seemingly in no hurry to get where they were going—or at least that’s how it appeared to Buck.

He couldn’t help but feel gratitude for his Uncle again.

When Buck’s GPS finally directed him to the cross street he needed to turn on, he could feel the air leave his lungs as he slowly approached the shuttered Engine 126. He parked his jeep in front of the bay doors, just beyond the memorial flowers and photos still sitting on the sidewalk. He stepped out of his jeep and quietly closed his car door, somehow sensing the building wasn’t quite ready to be disturbed just yet.

Staring up at the brown and red firehouse, Buck felt a chill pass through him, heard the wind rustle the flags and cards clinging to the garage door. He stepped lightly across the concrete to the memorial, bending down to look at the photos—the eleven fallen members of the 126. There were photos of them in uniform, photos with family members, and photos with each other. Smiles and stoic faces, moments of joy and moments of service, together and alone.

It was in that moment, Buck felt pain he wasn’t prepared for.

Here were eleven people who were part of a team, yes, but were obviously so much more than that. Photos only tell part of a story, but Buck just knew these people were more than a team to each other. They radiated family; it was in their expressions, in their postures, in their eyes. These were people, Buck knew, who would’ve died for each other without a second’s hesitation.

These people were the kind Buck had always wished for in life, what he believed he had. And they had died, while he got to live.

Until today, Buck hadn’t been sure why something like that would be. Why someone like him could defy death so many times, while these other men and women—who clearly had so much more fullness in their lives than he—hadn’t. He hadn’t understood why somebody like him would still be standing here.

It wasn’t until today that Buck fully accepted the responsibility of living, what it really meant for him to be here now, what it could mean for his future here in Austin.

“I swear,” he whispered, despite being the only person around. “I won’t let you guys down. I’ll make it worth something…everything. I won’t let this all be for nothing.”

Buck gently ran his fingers across the ribbon on one of the memorial wreaths and felt the breeze blow again. It wasn’t a vigorous wind, but it was enough to tip over one of the framed photos. When Buck reached with his right hand to fix it, he noticed a man in his peripheral vision.

The guy was tall, that much was obvious, probably at least as much as Buck if not a little more. He had broad shoulders, covered by a denim jacket, and he wore dark jeans and boots. He also had a cowboy hat perched on his head, his eyes in shadow beneath its brim.

Cowboy had parked his silver truck a couple dozen yards away, still in sight of the firehouse, but only just. Buck could feel the guy’s eyes on him as he rose from his crouched position, but neither made a move toward the other. The mystery guy simply stayed leaning against his truck, eyeing Buck or the 126 or both. Buck figured the guy must’ve been a friend or relative of someone at the original 126, just here to pay respects.

Recognizing again he didn’t want to ruffle any feathers too soon, Buck looked back down at the memorial, fixed another tilted frame, and decided to do the respectful thing. He straightened to attention and saluted the memorial, saluted the members of the 126 lost to the city he would now call home. He waited a moment before dropping his hand and turning to look over at Cowboy again. Buck respectfully tilted his head in acknowledgement and, just as he was about to return to his Jeep, he saw the guy look up and remove his hat.

From what Buck could see, the guy was probably a few years older than him, slightly tanned from the sun, and had brown hair. Buck couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but he could feel them burning a hole in his head. Figuring he was infringing on the guy’s moment, Buck turned towards his Jeep again. To his surprise though, the guy tipped his head back at Buck, just for a moment, before returning his hat to his head and getting into his own vehicle. Before Buck even had a chance to put a band on his door, the truck had peeled off down the street with the roar of an engine.

 _Huh…wonder what his deal is?_ Buck thought to himself. Once again, he assumed the guy was a grief-stricken friend or relative who simply hadn’t moved on yet. God knew, Buck was all too familiar with the difficulty of moving on from trauma. He would never be one to judge someone for how they grieved a situation. Hoping Cowboy would be alright, Buck started up his engine and headed back towards the CubeSmart. It had been almost an hour since he’d gotten TK’s text and Buck was anxious to meet up with his family at last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Buck is in Austin! I know, I know, you were probably all hoping to see TK and Owen in this chapter, but with the way the next one turned out, ending this chapter right before the reunion made the most sense. I know this one might've felt a bit rushed or like filler compared to the last few chapters, but I really wanted to concentrate on getting our boy to his new home. I also wanted to leave a few little Easter eggs and introduce some familiar faces to set up all the good things coming Buck's way. Hopefully, you caught them all and enjoyed the little changes I made to the canon material!
> 
> I'm planning to have the next chapter out by Tuesday night at the latest, and that's going to include some big moments. We'll obviously get our Strand/Buckley reunion, see the first few days at the 126, and maybe even get some interesting interactions you may not expect between Buck and a particular character. I've loved writing this next part of the story, so I hope you love it even more!
> 
> Thank you so so so much again for all your patience and for reading. It's incredibly humbling for me to know I have people who enjoy even a fraction of the work I produce. If you feel so inclined, feel free to leave some kudos or comments. I'm always happy for constructive criticism or joyful reactions.
> 
> I hope you're all staying safe, loving life as best you can, and reading everything you can get your hands on! See you in the next one ♡


	9. Strength You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Station 126 begins construction and Owen seeks out firefighters for his new team. Diversity is crucial, but is that all the job search is really about? 
> 
> Evan also starts getting reacquainted with being a firefighter who is really involved in his work, while getting used to living a whole new life. Thankfully, TK and Owen are fully on board with Evan's life finally being a happy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter Nine, and only three days later than I promised! So, as I was writing this chapter, it hit me just how much is packed into the pilot episode of Lone Star. In case you're wondering, it's a lot. So, what would've been a chapter covering the entire pilot got insanely long, and I had to split it in two. This half will cover the first few days in the 126, including a bit of construction and the interviews!
> 
> Now, I'll admit; I've taken a few creative liberties with this story, and you're going to start seeing quite a bit of that in this chapter. I've added some extra tidbits of information and dialogue here and there that hopefully contributes to advancing the story in a way I think the show skips over. As usual, I've also made up a few things about my characters that are obviously not canon. With all that said, allow me to remind readers that I'm not a firefighter, a therapist, an educational psychologist, or any other type of professional that may have anything to do with the information contained in this story. I do my best to thoroughly research the details I write or expand on, but I'm not flawless and I may get a few things wrong. If there are any glaring errors, please feel free to point them out. 
> 
> Sadly, I own nothing to do with the 9-1-1 universes, aside from my own delusions, and I’ve never been to Austin. Any of the real or fictional places mentioned in this fic may be altered slightly to suit the needs of the story (such as the layout of the Fairmont which may or may not have adjoining rooms, but for the purposes of the story, does). Thank you all so so much for reading and I hope you continue to love it.

Owen

Owen Strand had never been a big fan of long car rides, and his recent journey across the US hadn’t exactly changed that opinion. However, he couldn’t ignore the way he felt like the long trip had done a lot of good for him and TK.

_His son had spent the first few hours of the trip in relative silence, occasionally singing under his breath to a song on the radio or flicking through text messages on his phone. Owen had been concerned that the person he was messaging was Alex, and he tried to think of a way to ask TK about it without being overbearing._

_Owen needn’t have worried, however. By hour five, TK seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion with himself before he groaned and adjusted in his seat. His back was to the door and he looked at Owen, apparently trying to decide what to say._

_“You okay, son?” Owen asked._

_“It’s not, Alex, in case you’re wondering. Who I’ve been texting I mean,” TK said, his eyes sliding to the phone in his lap._

_“Okay,” Owen replied, drawing the word out slowly and then waiting for TK to continue._

_“It’s a therapist chat service; one of those platforms for people who have…I don’t know, trouble talking about things out loud, I guess? Ev suggested it, said it worked okay for him after the tsunami.” TK’s eyes remained in his lap, stuck solidly on his phone as he flipped it around in his hands_

_The motion was so like something his nephew would do; it brought a tickle to Owen’s throat._

_Keeping his eyes on the road, both for the sake of safety and for helping TK feel like he was in a non-scrutinizing space, he said, “I’m glad Evan suggested that. Do you feel like it’s been helping?”_

_“I think so? I mean, I’m still going to talk to whatever therapist you pick in Austin; I know that’s non-negotiable or whatever. I just—I thought maybe getting ahead of all this somehow could help.” TK finally picked his eyes up and looked at his father. “The therapist, Dr. Winslow, thinks I should—talk to you, you know, about my feelings and the overdose. What lead to it, I mean. He suggested it may help you understand, which means I wouldn’t be alone to process it all. He thinks that’s possibly hurt me in the past, dealing with my emotions alone, and that having someone else involved could make a difference.”_

_Owen couldn’t ignore this possible change of attitude was a positive development and wanted to give TK the benefit of the doubt. At the same time, he tried to be realistic and not to get his hopes up too high. His son was prone to clamming up about his emotions, usually at the worst possible moment. “And what do you think about that?”_

_TK sighed again, but his response surprised Owen. “I think he might be right.” He picked his head up and met his father’s eyes when Owen turned to look at him. Cracking a smile, TK said, “Well, don’t look so surprised, Old Man.”_

_They both chuckled mirthfully, and Owen returned his eyes to the road. “TK, all I want is for you to trust that you can come to me with whatever you want to. You’re my son; I love you, no matter what, when, or where. There is nothing you could ever feel or say that would change that. Not ever,” Owen said with a finality, looking in his son’s eyes quickly again, before returning them to the road._

_“I know, Dad,” TK said softly, and Owen could practically hear the smile in his response. “And I will tell you; I promise. I just—maybe not yet? It still feels too…”_

_“Raw?”_

_“Yeah,” TK answered, relief at Owen’s understanding coming through in his voice._

_“Whenever you’re ready, TK. I’m here,” Owen smiled and grabbed his son’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance._

* * *

Eventually, the pair of them had reached Nashville—their chosen halfway point. They checked into their room, went out for some barbeque, and called Evan once they’d returned to the hotel for the evening.

Since he and TK had a lot more property to move, Owen elected to hire movers to pack and ship everything. The two of them only took the most important and immediately necessary items in a few boxes and suitcases—most of which filled the back of Owen’s newly acquired Jeep SUV.

Evan, however, had only one person’s worth of property to move, so he’d decided to drive it to Austin himself. When his nephew called TK to find out how their trip was going, and to express his fears at how easy he seemed to be finding his own leg of the journey, Owen reassured him all the positivity was a good sign.

He hated the way his nephew’s life in LA had warped his mind and twisted his emotions so much that the kid honestly believed good things couldn’t happen to him anymore.

“He sounds so sad,” TK whispered after he’d hung up the phone. “I mean, I know he was trying to hide it and sound happy, but I could tell, Dad.”

“I know, TK,” Owen sighed, sitting on the first queen bed opposite TK. “You should’ve—you should’ve heard him when he first called me. I’m not sure who sounded worse at the time: me or him. But it’s going to be okay. It’s why we’re moving. This isn’t just for you; it’s for all of us.”

TK raised his head from where he’d been staring down at Evan’s contact card on his phone, a trace of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know I’ve said that a few times already, but, I’m really sorry that this happened like this. I wish it was just Evan we both had to take care of, instead of you having to deal with me on top of it.”

“Son, no, that’s not—” Owen sighed and brushed a hand through his hair, before moving to sit next to his son on the other bed. “TK, you’re my son. Evan is my nephew. I’m not ‘dealing with’ either of you. I’m taking care of my family, my boys. That’s what family does. They care for each other, hold each other up when it’s too tough to do it by ourselves. Owen clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “I love you both and I would die for either of you. I’d move Heaven and Earth for both you and Evan, regardless of the cost. Never forget that.”

TK pulled Owen into a hug and the elder Strand tried not to think of how the possibility of him dying had become much bigger than it had ever been. Instead, he tried to revel in the feeling of his son’s arms squeezing him tightly.

The hug lasted for several minutes until TK finally pulled away. His son pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to collect himself for a moment, before he looked at Owen again. Biting his lip, TK clenched his hands and closed his eyes.

The silence lasted a few moments and Owen considered giving his son some space when TK said, “I didn’t want to die, but I also felt like…like I didn’t want to breathe anymore either. I felt like the act of breathing, trying to exist in my life without Alex in it—without one more person—was just…too much.”

Owen clenched his jaw, surprised that this conversation was happening so readily, but kept quiet and left his eyes on TK. He comfortingly squeezed his son’s shoulder again, willing him to say more, as much as he might be ready to say.

TK’s eyes stayed shut, as though it was easier for him to talk if he couldn’t see past his own memories—his own mind. “I felt like I’d already lost so much, with everything that happened during 9/11, you and mom, Evan having to leave, my—my first OD, all of it. But, Alex, he—he’d stayed. He’d stayed longer than I ever thought anyone would, and I guess I believed that I would be worth it to him to stay for…for forever. It sounds stupid, but I honestly thought he was the one, Dad. And when I…when I suddenly lost that, I felt like it was the last thing. Like I couldn’t lose anything else anymore, like I couldn’t breathe for one more second knowing he was gone too. It was just too much and too little all at once; I think I wanted everything to just stop for a moment. I think I believed that, if everything just froze for a minute, my whole life would finally make some semblance of sense; that all this pain and loss would become understandable.”

Owen wasn’t sure if TK noticed the few tears he’d let fall down his face; his son’s eyes were still clenched tightly shut. If he noticed, he didn’t remark on it and Owen wasn’t about to stop him. But then his son laughed darkly, and the sound sent a chill through Owen.

“Obviously,” TK said softly, “we know how well that plan worked out.”

His son finally opened his eyes, but he immediately dropped his head to look at his lap again, shame evident in his expression. Owen placed both hands on his shoulders, gently pressing his fingers down in a way he hoped felt comforting.

“TK, son, look at me.” When TK finally picked his head up, Owen said, “I believe you, and I know what you mean about trying to make sense of pain—no matter what you have to try to do so. Pain rarely makes sense and trying to relieve it can be next to impossible sometimes. I can’t pretend to know what an overdose is like, or what thought processes exactly may lead someone to that, but I can imagine how enticing the possibility of a reprieve from pain—even if just for a moment—can be. I can’t…I don’t,” Owen tried to emphasize, “blame you for trying to find that reprieve, even if I don’t approve of the method. And I do believe you that you weren’t trying to die.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. I can imagine what it took, and I am so proud of you. You have no idea how far you’ve come today, and that’s how I know we’re doing the right thing here. I know this is hard, son, but you’re doing amazingly well. Don’t doubt that, okay?” Owen smiled at TK in reassurance, and to his relief, TK returned it. The pair hugged once more, Owen doing his best to convey comfort and pride to his son, before they parted again.

Deciding TK could probably use some space, Owen rose from the bed and shuffled to his suitcase. He grabbed some clothes and excused himself to shower, giving his son a few minutes on his own to relax from the heavy moment.

After he closed the door to the en suite, both Strand men breathed a sigh of relief—each glad that the other had responded to the conversation as well as they had. And by the time Owen emerged from the bathroom, refreshed from both the conversation and long shower, TK was tucked into his own bed. Deeply asleep, the younger Strand was none the wiser when his father pressed a soft kiss to his head and whispered that he loved him.

* * *

The following morning, both Owen and TK seemed to wake with a renewed calm about them. Something not unlike a feeling of rejuvenation followed the two men around as they dressed in comfortable attire for a day of driving and headed down to the lobby for breakfast.

They ate quickly before departing the hotel and making for the closest gas station, followed by the highway. A slight delay involving some rogue alpacas put them about two hours behind schedule, and by the time they’d made it to the outskirts of Austin, Evan had already been in town for over an hour.

TK had texted his cousin a short while earlier and they all agreed to meet at the storage unit, rather than the hotel, to help Evan unload his truck and prepare for when their own property was delivered tomorrow afternoon. Navigating Austin’s traffic with relative ease, Owen’s GPS directed them to the Cubesmart, and he pulled into the underground lot.

After the manager, Simone, confirmed who he was, she directed him deeper into the facility to where TK and Owen’s unit would be, and he pulled into a space alongside a ten-foot box truck. As TK and Owen hopped out of their SUV, a large Jeep Wrangler pulled up on the other side of the box truck into a parking spot.

It only took a moment for Evan to emerge from the Wrangler, and when he did, it took most of Owen’s strength not to drop the smile from his face. _He’s gotten so thin, and he’s so pale,_ Owen thought to himself, before shaking the negative thoughts from his head. His nephew was already hurrying over to them, delight evident on his face.

“Uncle Owen! TK!”

TK laughed at Evan’s happy expression and met his cousin halfway. “Hey cuz, it’s good to see you,” TK said, pulling Evan into a crushing hug.

Owen let the boys enjoy their reunion for a moment before he walked over. “Alright, my turn,” he said with a smile. After Evan stepped back from TK, Owen pulled the boy into his own hug. He winced at the way he could feel Evan’s shoulder blades so pointedly, even through the jacket he wore. Telling himself to just be glad Evan was here, alive and on his way to being well, Owen squeezed his nephew to him tightly. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”

“Me too, Uncle Owen. Me too.”

The pair of them stepped apart and Owen placed a hand on both Evan and TK’s shoulders. “My boys, back together again. What have I gotten myself into?”

The three of them laughed at Owen’s joke before Evan pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Well, what do you say we get this truck unloaded and start finding out?”

“You got it, kid. Let’s get this done.”

Between the three of them, they made short work of the truck. Unloading everything took little time and organizing all the items Evan would be leaving in the unit after they’d found a house took even less time than that.

It saddened Owen immensely to see how little in the way of possessions his nephew had obtained in the years he spent in LA. It only served to further Owen’s resolve that this move to Austin be permanent and good for Evan and TK both.

In the end, they’d spent less than two hours emptying the U-Haul and organizing the unit, and after dropping the truck off at the closest rental dispatch, the three men made their way to the hotel Owen had booked.

The Fairmont, a modern, entirely-glass-faced, hotel, had immediately appealed to the side of Owen still lamenting the loss of New York City. TK and Evan seemed to enjoy it too, both whistling in appreciation as they wandered through the lobby and commenting on how they couldn’t wait to take advantage of the pool.

After the three of them had checked into their adjoining rooms, they all took some time to freshen up and change, before walking to a restaurant a few blocks away. They spent a few hours eating, enjoying each other’s company, and catching up. They kept the conversations as light as possible, an unspoken agreement passing between them that the heaviness of why there were all there would keep until another day.

As he watched TK and Evan catch up and share stories, Owen knew it wasn’t just the few beers he had warming him from head to toe. The smile on his son’s face was the first genuine one he’d seen in days, if not longer, and he could imagine the same was probably true for Evan.

Owen liked to think, in the few hours they’d been together, that it wasn’t just his imagination that his nephew had regained some color in his face. Evan still had dark circles under his eyes, which he’d no doubt use his long drive as an excuse for, and Owen could only hope a few days in the Texas sun—surrounded by him and TK—would do some good in erasing them.

And if he shoved a few extra chicken wings onto Evan’s plate or heartily encouraged him to eat a little more, neither of his boys seemed to find it odd.

When it was nearing ten pm and they’d all yawned more than a few times, Owen rose from his seat and told Evan and TK it was time to head back. They returned to the hotel and within a few minutes, after agreeing to wake early for breakfast, retired to their beds.

It pleased Owen to no end that the boys shared Evan’s room and kept the adjoining door open. He hadn’t doubted it for a moment, but he was still glad to see it was as though no time had passed and the pair seemingly remained closer than ever.

The relief of his boys both being back under his roof—in some form at least—had Owen drifting off to sleep comfortably for the first time in days.

* * *

The following morning, after a relaxed breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Owen asked if the boys wanted to accompany him to the 126. He needed to check out the space and start determining what needed to be done to get the House up to standards.

Evan’s reply surprised him more than it probably should’ve. “I went yesterday before you both got here. I didn’t see inside, of course, but I get the feeling there are a lot of…ghosts there, Uncle Owen. I’m not sure people are going to be quite ready for this, yet, so we should watch ourselves.”

Owen could hear the determination in Evan’s voice, his honorable side leaking out. _So much like Killian,_ Owen thought, _always so good._ TK, however, had a look of apprehension on his face, something Owen had expected, but was undetermined in how to handle just yet.

Throwing them both a smile and finishing the last of his coffee, Owen said, “Don’t worry, boys. It’s all going to work out fine. We’ve got this.”

Soon after, the three of them left the hotel and hopped into Owen’s jeep, bound for the 126. Evan vaguely remembered the route, but they kept the GPS on in the background to be sure. Soon enough, they’d reached the firehouse.

They all stepped out and while TK stared up at the building, Owen wandered over to the memorial, still taking up pride of place on the sidewalk. He felt Evan walk up behind him and, as the pair of them stared at the photos, he could sense the ghostly feeling his nephew had mentioned. TK sidled up alongside him and Owen looked at his son, remembering why he was here.

Opening the first of the two bay doors did nothing to assuage the haunted feeling that had settled over the grounds of the 126. They all walked slowly into the firehouse and took it in. There were inches of dust and layers of cobwebs over everything in sight. “This place is exactly like it was the night the call came in,” Owen said slowly, walking deeper into the hollow space. “They shuttered it the next day.”

“It’s like a tomb,” Evan replied, staring up at the ceiling and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Dad,” TK said after a few minutes, fear clear in his voice. “Tell them you changed your mind. We—we don’t belong here.”

Evan turned sharply to face his cousin, before turning to Owen, a stricken look in his eyes. Owen had expected this, particularly from TK, and he kept a relaxed look on his face. “We were invited here.”

“Yeah, but not by anyone grieving the loss of those men,” TK retorted, pointing outside the bay door’s to where the memorial sat. “I mean, they’re not even ready to get rid of the dead flowers on the sidewalk. And what? Now, some city slicker’s gonna come in here and scold them on how they’re doing life all wrong?”

“City slicker?” Evan interrupted with a smirk.

“An outsider,” TK emphasized, rolling his eyes. “A—a stranger.”

“Sometimes it takes an outsider. Someone they can blame,” Owen said. “And possibly hate.”

A resigned look crossed his son’s face and he shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Just…don’t go out of your way to prove the point, okay?”

“You know me,” Owen replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “I tread very lightly.”

Evan let out a snort and a throaty laugh, followed by a soft, “Yeah, right,” before walking past both Strands and going deeper into the empty firehouse.

* * *

Evan

The sound of jackhammers and construction was probably audible for a mile, but Evan couldn’t help the slight happiness he got from putting giant holes in the wall of the fire station. The sledgehammer may have been heavy, but it felt incredibly cathartic to hit something he wasn’t worried about hurting.

The remodel of the 126 had begun almost immediately, with Owen taking the budget he was given and stretching it to an unrecognizable degree.

His uncle never failed to surprise him with the kinds of things he managed to accomplish.

After taking out another section in the wall, Evan lowered his hammer to take a break and get a sip of water. While he watched TK continue on his half of the wall, Uncle Owen and Deputy Chief Radford wandered past him.

“So, is—is this in the budget?” Radford asked, pointing to the walls they were all working on tearing down.

“I find people work better in spaces where there’s more natural light,” Owen replied, bring a smile to Evan’s face. “Whatcha got there?”

Evan noticed the large stack of papers in the Chief’s hands and looked on curiously, while trying to appear like he wasn’t eavesdropping. When Radford started explaining they were all resumes, Evan realized his uncle was no longer listening to the chief. Instead, he was staring at a young kid polishing up Radford’s SUV.

“Uh—” Owen interrupted the Chief’s chatter. “Who’s he?”

Radford turned to look where Owen pointed. “Oh, that’s Mateo. Frequent flier in the Academy. Never passed, but he’s a good kid. So, I hired him as my driver.”

Evan watched Mateo as he polished the inside of the door handles, impressed at the kid’s effort. He also couldn’t help but cringe at the way Radford seemed pleased by the consolation prize of being the Deputy Chief’s driver that Mateo had been offered.

He knew how badly it felt to want to be a firefighter and to get so close, only to fall short of the goal. 

“Alright, Chief, well, I will…look at your resumes,” his Uncle replied, his eyes still trained on Mateo. His voice dropped an octave and he looked back at Radford. “I’m casting a slightly…wider net.”

Evan chuckled to himself again as Owen tucked the stack of papers under his arm and wandered away from Radford to check on the construction in another part of the building. Dropping his now-empty bottle in a recycling bin, Evan realized TK had stopped hammering.

“What are you laughing at?” his cousin asked him.

“Just your dad,” Evan said, smiling and picking back up his own hammer. “This city has no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into.”

TK shook his head at Evan’s assessment and the two of them returned to their task.

* * *

The following day, heavier construction work was being done and the men couldn’t be at the firehouse, so Owen asked for Evan and TK’s help going through resumes. They’d already eliminated many of the obvious choices and Owen had them concentrate on seeking out more diverse candidates.

“If diversity is what this city wants, then it’s what we’re going to give them,” Owen said as they pulled up to the food truck plaza for lunch. Evan had told TK and Owen about it the day after they’d arrived in Texas, and they all made a plan to try every food option available to determine which was the best place.

“This crew can’t just be good,” Owen continued as they walked up to the Tic Toc Taco, the current champ for best truck. “They gotta be the best. Gotta be the 1927 Yankees.”

He handed the resume currently under review to TK, and Evan looked at the paper over his shoulder. “No one’s gonna cut us any slack,” Evan agreed. “We need exceptional people.”

“Gotta be battle tested,” Owen finished, staring up at the menu board.

“But, Dad, this chick seems kind of crazy,” TK interrupted, scrutinizing the paper.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Evan laughed, lightly cuffing his cousin in the shoulder before heading to the window to order more gorditas—his new usual lunch order.

After they finished eating, they decided to explore the city a bit while reviewing more resumes. Evan had made the suggestion that Owen talk to Mateo and see what the kid’s situation was. He’d impressed the both of them and Evan was curious about what it’d take to give the kid a real shot.

After reviewing his file, Owen was in immediate agreement.

While they walked through the park in front of the Capitol building, Evan and TK flipped through the remaining possibilities, eliminating options and passing off promising ones to Owen. When they’d reached a firefighter from Chicago, Owen quickly tucked it in TK’s “Yes” pile.

“Dad,” TK warned, looking at the resume. “You bring this guy in, people here would lose their minds.”

All Owen said was, “Yep,” and Evan burst out laughing again.

By the end of the day, Evan and the Strands had walked miles around Austin, eaten their weight in Mexican food, and possessed a considerably smaller pile of potential interviewees for the new 126. After they returned to the hotel, Owen sent the list to the Deputy Chief’s office, requesting they set up interviews as soon as possible.

While Owen spent the evening completing paperwork, Evan and TK enjoyed a night of channel surfing and looking at rentals. They had an appointment with a realtor at the end of the week, and she’d already sent them a list of possibilities they’d be checking out. Owen and Evan still hadn’t told TK they’d all be living together, eager to surprise him with the news when there was a place to actually move into.

Eventually, though, the exhaustion of the past few days won out and TK fell asleep with his head on his laptop. The imprint it left on his face after Evan moved it made him smile, and he ruffled his cousin’s hair after tucking the blankets around him. He wandered over to his Uncle’s room and gently closed the adjoining door behind him.

“How’s the paperwork going, Uncle Owen?” He asked, sitting on one of the beds in the middle of the room.

Owen made a few last keystrokes on his laptop before turning to face Evan. “It’s going okay, kid. Lots to do, but you boys helping me go through those resumes today was a big step forward. Saved me a lot of reading.”

“Yeah,” Evan laughed, thinking of Michelle’s tip about the Travis County manual—something Evan had already read, and Owen promised to get to eventually. “I know how you prefer to do something, rather than read about it.”

“Yep, which reminds me,” Owen said rising from his chair and stretching his stiff muscles. He came over and sat next to Evan, handing him the list of interview candidates they had for the next three days. “I’d like you and TK to sit in on the interviews with me. This will be a quick process, and I want input from both of you.”

Surprised, Evan took the list, glancing over it briefly. “But, Uncle Owen, I’m no lieutenant or anything. Am I even allowed to be there?”

“I don’t care what your rank is, and I’m kind of making up my own rules here. This is going to be yours and TK’s team too; you should have a say in who’s a part of it. Look, Ev,” Owen sighed and turned to Evan, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know you’ve spent the last few months thinking you’re less than and being told all kinds of shit about yourself that isn’t true. But I’ve seen my share of good and bad firefighters. I’ve trained them; I’ve worked with them; I’ve known them. You are one of the good ones. Trust me. I need you to help me choose the best people for this job.”

Evan smiled at his uncle and enjoyed the way Owen continued to bolster and support him. Owen released his shoulder and took the paper back, looking at it while dropping his shoulders. The motion gave Evan pause, but before he could ask, his uncle carried on talking.

“The truth is, Evan, I’ve already had to do this once before—as you well know—and I know the strength it takes to rebuild a firehouse alone. I’m glad I have you boys here to help me this time. It makes me proud to know you both wanted to be part of this, despite the fact that you and TK were both also somewhat forced into it—in one form or another. It’s truly a new beginning, in so many ways, for all of us. So, let yourself enjoy it, kid.” 

Evan smiled at his uncle’s encouragement and decided to make a request. “Uncle Owen? In the spirit of new beginnings, can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure, Ev, anything.”

He knew it was a pointless request, one he probably didn’t need to ask; he could just tell everyone and that would be that. But, at the same time, Evan hoped that by forcing himself to ask the question out loud, he would know that he meant it and it would be a true reset for him with his future team. “Could you, and the rest of the team, call me Evan—instead of Buck? I—I know my last name will be used quite a lot too, I just…I don’t want to be Buck anymore. I want to be Evan.”

Owen looked at him and smiled softly. His uncle had never called him anything other than “Evan” or “kid” anyway, so it wouldn’t be a big change for him. But they both knew that “Buck” was once his go-to, the moniker he preferred everyone else call him above all. For him to let it go, well, Evan was confident Owen would appreciate what that meant.

“You got it, kid.” Owen smiled again and got up to walk over to his desk. He shuffled a few papers before turning around again and asking, “Did I ever tell you why your parents named you ‘Evan’?”

Shocked at the random segue, Evan shook his head. They so rarely discussed his parents, if only because it was such a sensitive topic for all of them. To hear any new revelation about his father and mother during the good days, well, that was a treat and a half.

“It was all your dad. You see, Killian was obsessed with his heritage. He always tried to learn everything about his Irish ancestors. It didn’t matter that there was also quite a bit of Welsh in him; he was determined to absorb as much information about Ireland as he could. At one point, he even told Julia and me he was going to learn Gaelic,” Owen said laughing. His uncle’s joy in talking about his former best friend was infectious, and Evan found himself smiling easily.

“So, I don’t just get my thirst for knowledge from Mom, then?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely not. Both your parents were like that,” Owen said, a faraway look in his eye for a moment. He looked back at Evan and continued. “Well, you know they wanted to have a second child and it took a while for you to happen. What you don’t know is that your mom had a difficult time giving birth to you. There were complications, she started bleeding, and you went into fetal distress before you made it out to us.”

The sudden grave turn in the conversation saw the smiles gone from both men’s faces, and Owen’s hands were gripped tightly on the edge of the desk. The faraway look was back in his eyes again.

Evan had never known any of these details regarding his early life; he’d always been in relatively perfect health, at least until recently, and he’d assumed it was always so. “So…what happened?”

At the question, Owen’s smile returned, and he looked down at Evan again. “You did what you always do, kid. You fought like hell. You were no more ready to go than we were to lose you. Your mom and dad hadn’t even seen you yet; they—not to mention, the rest of us—weren’t about to let you go.” The happiness in his voice was back again, too, and Evan couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his younger self. “The doctors ended up doing an emergency cesarian, got your mom’s bleeding stopped, and got your oxygen up to a regular rhythm. You were back to normal practically within the hour of gracing us with your presence.

“Eventually,” Owen said, taking a seat next to Evan on the bed again. “We all got to meet you, and when your aunt and I asked your parents what they named you, Killian said, ‘There can only be one name for this little fighter, but since it’s already taken by another member of the Strand family, we’re going to call him Evan.’ As you can probably guess, the Strand they meant was me,” Owen said with a light-hearted smirk. “According to Killian, both ‘Owen’ and ‘Evan’ mean some variation of the word ‘warrior,’ but ‘Evan’ was the superior choice because it’s Gaelic.”

Evan laughed at his father’s idea of a joke, as well as the way his uncle rolled his eyes fondly. Desperate to hear more, he asked, “And what about my middle name?”

“Ah, well, that one was your mother. Dylan Thomas was her favorite poet. She was obsessed with his writing and his theories regarding the unity of life and death and everything in between. She believed what he did; that people’s lives aren’t random or separated, and we’re all inevitably connected to each other. So, when you came out fighting, determined to be a part of this world and unwilling to meet your death before your new life began, she said ‘Thomas’ was meant to be. So,” his uncle said, rising again. “Evan Thomas Buckley, you became.”

“Wow, Uncle Owen, I—” Evan wasn’t sure how to properly express what hearing the story of his origins meant to him, not to mention what it meant that Owen still remembered all that. Evan had spoken so little to his mother in the past ten years, and he’d heard even less about his father in that time and then some. To get a story like this, there wasn’t words for it. “Thank you…for telling me that. You have no idea—I mean, to know that it was my dad who chose my name, and why he picked what he did. Even to hear something new about—about Mom. It means more to me than I can say.” It gave him more pride in being Evan Thomas Buckley than he’d ever had before.

Evan stood up, his legs a little stiff from sitting for so long and threw his arms around his uncle. He refused to cry, wanting to relish in the happy feelings these memories gave him, and instead tried to put as much gratitude into the hug as he could.

Owen squeezed him back tightly and said, “You’re welcome, kid. Anytime. I know I don’t talk a lot about your parents; I’m sure you can relate to why. But, if there’s something you want to know, I’ll tell you. You deserve to have someone tell you where you come from and I’m happy to be that person.”

The two men pulled apart and Owen’s eyes strayed over to the clock on his nightstand. “Alright, enough of this emotion for one night. It’s late, and you and TK both have an early day of helping me conduct interviews. Off to bed with you, alright?”

Evan chuckled at his uncle’s shooing motion and raised both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He quietly opened the adjoining door and just before he wandered into his room, he turned back and whispered with a grateful smile, “I love you, Uncle Owen.”

Owen smiled back and nodded gently. “Love you too, Evan.”

The pair shared one more smile before Evan disappeared into the other room. Owen heard the sound of blankets shuffling float through the doorway, followed by the groan of a mattress and a soft sigh. He turned off his desk lamp, and right before he got under his own covers, he looked out the window at the night sky, thinking of Killian and how much he hoped his brother could see the kind of man his son was becoming.

* * *

The next day saw Owen, TK, and Evan back at the 126. The construction was coming along, all undesirable walls were down, and equipment was rolling in—including the new team uniforms. Owen had both Evan and TK suit up for the day’s interviews, all of which were firefighters from Texas houses—with the exception of Mateo Chavez.

Owen and the boys sat behind a folding table in the middle of the firehouse, construction continuing around them, while each interview was conducted. The first four went well, with Owen deciding on two from the group as possible candidates, before Mateo—the last interviewee—arrived.

The young man seemed surprised, if not a little confused, to have been called. Owen welcomed Mateo and introduced him to TK and Evan before getting down to business. “Mateo, I called you here because I want to know if you’re interested in working for the 126.”

“You sure you got the right Mateo Chavez?”

Both TK and Evan kept quiet, but the latter couldn’t help but empathize with the kid and the way he seemed to question their interest in him.

“You set AFD Academy records in multiple categories,” Owen responded before his eyes flicked over to Evan—a subtle association to his own record if Evan ever saw one.

“The field stuff is easy,” Mateo said, shrugging.

Owen took a sip of his smoothie, appearing to maintain an air of nonchalance. “The field is where you’re tested.”

“Except you have to pass the written exams too,” Mateo said, clenching his hands together in his lap. “But I—uh—flunked out.”

“Four times,” Owen nodded, smiling. “When you wash out that many times, why do you keep coming back?”

Evan held his breath, waiting for the young kid’s answer. None of them was disappointed.

“Because I was born to do it, sir.”

Evan could already tell Mateo was clearly firefighter material. But, for the sake of the interview, Owen pressed on. “When you were washing your boss’s car,” he questioned. “You were wiping down the inside of the door handles. Why? Nobody would ever know if they were clean or not.”

“I would, sir.”

TK glanced at Evan and nodded slightly, his smile indicating his own impressed reaction. Evan turned to Mateo and asked him, “Mateo, why do you think passing the written exams has been such a challenge for you?”

The young man’s face turned a little red and he looked down at his hands. “I’ve always had trouble with reading and getting things to stick in my head. It took me forever to make it through the AFD manual when I first read it, and I still have a hard time whenever I try to go back and get through it. It—it’s not an excuse, I know that, and I know I can do better. It’s just—my teachers all said I was a little slow,” he confessed, picking his head up and looking at the three of them.

Evan couldn’t help but feel more empathy for Mateo, a kid who was obviously doing the best he could and then some. He knew what it felt like for everyone to think and treat you like you were stupid, no matter how hard you worked to prove otherwise.

Once again, Uncle Owen flicked his eyes over to Evan, staring at him for a moment before turning back to Mateo. The man seemed to reach a conclusion, but whatever it was, he didn’t say. “I don’t know what your teachers told you in the past, but I know what you’re not,” he said. “You’re not stupid.”

Mateo swallowed and seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m not?”

“No,” Owen said, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re thorough, you’re relentless, and you’re exactly the kind of man I want on the 126.”

The small, hopeful smile on Mateo’s face could’ve lit up the room. Evan could see from his expression how glad the kid was just to finally be seen by someone, to be told what he probably believed deep down: that he was capable of doing this job he wanted more than anything. Sometimes though, it wasn’t enough to believe it on your own. Evan knew sometimes you needed to hear the words out loud.

Evan looked at TK, and they both smiled at Mateo, nodding in agreement with Owen.

“Now,” his Uncle said, a tone of finality in his voice. “You’re going to need to take the written exam again in order to stay past the probationary period. However, it sounds to me like reading is an issue for you. It’s not uncommon, Mateo, so what I’d like is to have your reading and language skills assessed. It will give us an idea of where you’re having difficulty, so we can determine the best way to help you move forward.”

Despite the semi-harmless threat of an assessment looming over his head, Mateo’s hopeful look remained firmly pasted on his face. “You—you want to help me?”

“We do, Mateo,” TK answered. “Because we want you here at the 126 with us. So, what do you say?”

“I say, hell yeah!” The young man shot out of his chair in joy, practically leaping over the table to shake all their hands. “Thank you, Captain Strand. Thank you so much. You will not regret this.”

“I’m sure we won’t, Mateo,” Owen replied, shaking his hand. “I’ll give you a call in a day or two when I get the assessment set up. And you’ll receive a few emails by the end of today with your contract and details about your new employment.”

“Oh my gosh, this—this is amazing. I can’t wait to get started. Thank you! Thank you again!” He shook Owen’s hand one more time before turning to go. “I have to go tell my folks!”

Evan and TK both laughed at the kid’s effusiveness. “It was good to meet you, Mateo. Welcome to the 126!” Evan said, receiving one last smile before the young man bolted for the parking lot.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I feel pretty damn good right now,” Uncle Owen said, smiling at Mateo’s back as the kid practically flew into his car.

TK and Evan both crossed their arms, smiling as they did. “So,” TK said, looking at his father. “Who’s next?”

* * *

The following day, the three of them were back at the folding table, construction even further along than it had been the day before. Things were really starting to come together at the 126, and Evan was getting more excited at the prospect of working where he was.

Today they were seeing five interviewees: two from the Midwest area, one from a Dallas station, and Marjan Marwani, the “kind of crazy” firefighter based out of Miami.

She’d made a name for herself in the Sunshine State, both in infamy and in action. A few days earlier, Evan had found a video of her saving a bunch of people from a bus that had gone off a bridge and into water. While Marjan sat casually across from them, TK reviewed the video once more.

“Miami Fire and Rescue Instagram got, what, six million likes now?”

“Nine. Cardi B reposted it last night,” she responded casually, as though a celebrity sharing a video of her heroism was no big deal.

Owen ignored TK and Evan’s impressed faces. “You’ve racked up 11 reprimands in one year. That has to be a record.”

“Well, my parents taught me if you’re gonna do something, be the best.”

Evan snorted at her response but couldn’t ignore—despite the reprimands—how she’d clearly been doing exactly what her parents said. Her test scores were off the charts, she had made quite a few miraculous—if not a tad reckless—saves, and she did have quite a set of skills under her belt.

“Insubordination, reckless behavior,” Owen listed off.

“I’m allergic to poor leadership,” she said matter-of-factly, adjusting in her chair.

“Insubordination…insubordination,” Owen skipped over her comment and kept talking.

Reprimands aside, and god knew Evan had seen his share of those, Marjan was clearly a skilled firefighter—possibly more so than him even. Despite the constant dressing downs for insubordination, which Evan knew his Uncle saw no threat in, Marjan would make a phenomenal addition to the 126. One that, really, they needed. She was diverse in body, spirit, and mind; she wouldn’t take crap from anyone inside or outside this firehouse, she was proud of her accomplishments—be they good or bad, and she clearly owned every move she made. She didn’t try to excuse her reprimands; rather, she embraced them for what they probably were: men in positions of power disapproving a woman of her skillset threatening their comfortable lifestyles.

That kind of refreshing attitude was something Evan knew his Uncle wanted on this team, whether Austin was ready for it or not.

Owen reached the end of the reprimands list and promptly shoved the iPad aside. “So, Marjan, how would you feel about relocating to Austin?”

She shifted in her chair to face them head on. “Well, look, I’ll be honest. The real reason I agreed to come out here is cause I’ve always wanted to check out South by Southwest.”

TK put his chin on his hand and Evan looked at Owen, uncertain where this might be going.

“Things have really changed for me in Miami since that video went viral,” she continued. “For the first time, I genuinely feel respected.”

Evan shifted in his chair, suddenly understanding the turn in conversation. He knew what she was implying, what she believed she felt, but he also knew it probably wasn’t real. The feeling you get when one of your “big saves” goes viral usually wasn’t true respect. Sure, some people did appreciate your skills, but more often than not, the person in question became little more than a show pony. After the whole “County Fair Spider-Man” thing back in LA, Evan really thought that people respected him and the lives he’d saved, even if he couldn’t save all of them.

In reality, people just wanted their picture with the hot firefighter who’d been on TV. Or they wanted to use him for sex or to catfish women. They cared no more about who he really was, or the fact that a young man lost his life, than they did about any other person in a viral video. It was all just a farce.

Before Owen could respond, Evan interrupted. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me your department’s not using you as a prop?”

It was the question he wished somebody had asked him years ago, after the rollercoaster or even after the tsunami. He’d saved so many people, even if more were lost, and Evan often wondered how much of his team’s approval had been genuine support and how much had been showboating for the benefit of the public. After all, it wouldn’t do for the guy who’d saved a dozen lives during a tsunami—right after a serious, on-the-job injury no less—to be anything less than favored by his own firehouse.

Evan wanted Marjan to feel differently, for her experience to be a genuine one. He just wasn’t sure that it was at the moment.

Her eyes flicked to him before she leaned back in her chair. “How do I know you’re not looking for a prop of your own to show everybody how ‘woke’ you are?”

 _She doesn’t pull punches; that’s for damn sure,_ Evan thought, impressed by her pointedness.

“Marjan, I’m not going to sit here and insult your intelligence by pretending you wouldn’t be bringing diversity to this team. You would be, for more reasons than one.” Owen pointed out. “But, when I look at you and what you’ve accomplished, I don’t see a Muslim or a woman. I see a kick-ass firefighter.”

She nodded slightly and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Owen to finish.

“Now, you can go back to Miami, do the job we both know you’re brilliant at, and enjoy your respect—if you genuinely believe that’s what you’re getting there. Or,” Owen paused for a moment. Dramatic effect, Evan could only assume. “You can come to Austin, be a part of the 126, and receive real respect based on your merits and what you bring to the House, not because of a video some celebrity reposted. So, what do you say?”

Evan felt like he was holding his breath, and it seemed as though TK was doing the same. None of them spoke while they waited for Marjan to consider the offer. And while she never broke eye contact with Owen, Evan could tell she was deep in thought, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the tabletop.

After a minute or two of silence, Marjan finally made a move. “Well, Captain Strand,” she said rising from her chair. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a new teammate.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and Owen did so gladly after rising from his own chair. She offered a shake to both TK and Evan as well, and both of them smiled warmly at her. As Evan shook her hand, he gladly said, “Welcome to the 126, Marjan.”

She gave them all a nod and a smile, after which Owen explained the paperwork she’d be receiving from the AFD Office later that day. The Deputy Chief had already negotiated offers for moving expenses, if necessary, for people to relocate to the city. Marjan seemed pleased by the offer and quickly excused herself to return to her hotel and start negotiating her arrangements.

Evan watched Marjan as she casually strolled out of the firehouse, head held high with a triumphant smile on her face. “She sure doesn’t mess around, does she?” Evan asked TK, lightly elbowing him in the arm.

“Sure as hell doesn’t. I told you both she seemed kind of crazy,” TK responded, looking over at his father who was busy organizing papers.

“Maybe, but that’s exactly the kind of thing this place needs. Don’t you boys think?” Owen grinned as he ruffled TK’s hair.

“Ugh, Dad! Why?”

“Because he can,” Evan said laughing and doing further ruffling of his own to his cousin’s head. “How many people are left, Uncle Owen?”

His uncle pulled out the iPad again and flipped through a few screens. “No more today. The last four are tomorrow, including Paul Strickland.”

“He’s got a hell of a resume,” TK said, looking at the screen. “Do you really think he’ll go for this though?”

Evan was just as impressed by Paul’s skills as he was by Marjan’s. He hoped his uncle could get him to transfer; Evan could see himself learning just as much from the people on this squad as he already was from his uncle.

“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got a few tricks up these old sleeves. By the time I’m done, we’ll have the best squad of firefighters Austin has ever seen.”

Evan didn’t doubt his uncle; he just hoped the remaining people they wanted would go for what AFD had to offer.

* * *

The final day of the interviews dawned cloudy with the rumble of thunder in the distance. Evan hoped that didn’t mean the day would go south or that things didn’t bode well for their interviews.

After a busy morning organizing new equipment at the 126 and directing movers and lighting engineers, Owen, TK, and Evan sat down at their folding table again, ready to tackle the last of the potential firefighters.

Three hours in, Evan was glad they’d already found a handful of people they liked for the squad. The first interviewee was promising, but the last two they had were a bust, both with cocky attitudes and an obvious desire to be in charge. Owen escorted each of them out with a smile but made a definite “No” sign after the last two had walked out.

Finally, their last candidate, Paul Strickland sat before them.

Evan had observed him as he waited outside the firehouse before entering for his interview. His eyes seemed to wander over every face, every surface, seeing Evan could only imagine what. Strickland struck him as the kind of person who noticed what other people didn’t. It made it easier for Evan to understand how the man was able to identify the perpetrator in the video TK had them currently reviewing.

“How’d you know he was the arsonist and he had a gun?” Owen questioned.

Strickland maintained a casual air about him, not giving too much away. “Got lucky,” he said, uncrossing his arms and shrugging.

“Yeah, lucky, my ass,” Owen replied with obvious disbelief. He leaned forward in his chair, while TK turned off the video. “You got a stack full of Life Saving Commendations, which tells me you have a gift for threat assessment. Would you say that has anything to do with you being trans?”

Evan would always hand it to his uncle: he never wasted time getting straight to the point. Owen was also never the type to ignore the way a person’s life experiences could impact their behavior or skillset. It was apparent to Evan that Owen wanted to know what Paul Strickland thought about his own skills and what he could bring to the 126.

“Growing up the way I did, there was a lot of folks who wanted to hurt me, so I guess I learned to figure out who they were before they figured out who I was,” he responded matter-of-factly, widening his eyes a bit as he did so.

As unfortunate as it was for Paul, for anyone who was different, to grow up with so many constant threats, Evan couldn’t help but be impressed by his simple, calculated logic. See the threats before they see you; the hunted becoming the hunter. _Okay, enough with the idioms and metaphors,_ he thought to himself. He realized while he was zoning out, Uncle Owen had cut to the chase again.

“This crew is going to be responsible for answering a variety of calls throughout this city. As you can imagine, not all of those scenes are going to be easily resolved or always one hundred percent safe. I could use someone with your insight and skills on this squad. How would you feel about relocating to Austin?”

Paul leaned forward in his chair and shook his head lightly. “Thanks, Cap, but I transitioned on the job in Chicago, and that was hard enough. I don’t want to imagine what things are gonna be like down in Texas.”

When Paul started to rise from his chair to leave the station, Evan couldn’t help the grim expression that crossed his face. He realized that not getting Paul at the 126 could be a huge loss for them, and not just from a work standpoint. Paul didn’t just bring a penchant for threat assessment to the table; he brought a resilience that most people spent a lifetime trying to develop. It was a skill that Evan had never fully managed in a way that he thought he needed to—especially after everything in LA.

Paul would be a great firefighter and coworker, sure, but Evan couldn’t ignore the way Paul was a representation of exactly what Austin needed after losing so many firefighters. It sounded like he’d faced years of obstacles, decades of fighting for who he was, and Evan could only imagine the strength required to overcome such adversity. It was a strength Austin and the 126 needed, even if it came to them in a manner—person—they wouldn’t be expecting.

“You know, somewhere in this town right now is a kid who is just like you were. Feeling scared, hopeless,” Evan said, looking Paul in the eye, halting the man from leaving. He tried to convey how much Paul could do for the 126, what he could bring to the people of Austin—simply by being himself. 

Evan looked at his uncle, willing him to continue. Luckily, Owen seemed to know exactly where Evan had been going. “I’d like you to show him, or her, or they, it’s okay to be who you are.” As usual, his uncle knew exactly what to say, but seemed to also sense getting Paul Strickland to sign onto the 126 would take a bit more than pretty words. Owen put a hand to the side of his mouth, and, with a cheeky smile, loudly whispered, “And I’ll double your salary.”

Whatever Paul Strickland had intended when he started to leave seemed to have changed rather abruptly. Whether it was Owen’s encouragement or the promise of a better salary, Evan didn’t know or care. All he knew was that, with a raise of an eyebrow, Paul’s mind seemed to change.

Paul turned and casually walked back to the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Cap,” he said, sticking out a hand to shake. Owen, TK, and Evan all rose from their seats and shook Paul’s hand.

“Good to have you on board, Strickland,” Evan replied with a smile.

* * *

A little while later, after his uncle gave Paul the same rundown as Marjan regarding transferring and moving expenses and the newest recruit had taken his leave, Owen, TK, and Evan sat down at the table to finalize the firehouse team.

“That was quite a Hail Mary there with the doubling of the salary, Uncle Owen. Is Radford gonna go for that?” Evan asked, while he organized the resumes into piles.

“Actually, Ev, Radford had already given me approval to double all of the new team member’s salaries—within reason—if that’s what it took to get them. Strickland was just the only one I had to say it out loud for. But, considering some of these people are making some pretty big changes to come here, I’d say a doubled salary for everyone is only fair. Wouldn’t you?” His Uncle laughed cheekily and sent his nephew a cavalier wink before entering some notes on his computer.

“Alright, you two, enough messing around. Let’s finish this; we still have all those uniforms to finish organizing and the first truck is being delivered today,” TK reminded them, grabbing the “Maybe” resume pile from Evan to pass to his father.

“He’s right, Uncle Owen. And don’t forget, you’ve gotta let the contractor know whose office is whose upstairs, so they can lay out the walls correctly.”

“Okay, boys,” Owen said, putting aside his laptop and taking the resumes from TK. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. Shift A will consist of you boys, Chavez, Marwani, and Strickland. Shift B will be Danvers, Fonseca, Lafayette, Mori, Ramos, and Carter.”

Evan had been taking the resumes as Owen handed them to him and making separate shift piles. But his uncle’s list gave him pause. “Hang on, Uncle Owen, that’s only five firefighters for Shift A and six for B. The count is off.”

“I know that, Ev, and it might be uneven for a bit. I have a possible sixth person for your shift, but there’s someone I need to talk to before I figure out who’s filling the spot.”

“Okay…” TK said, drawing out his response. “Like that wasn’t cryptic, Dad.”

“Don’t worry about this one, son,” Owen said, patting TK on the back. “This is one thing that Captain Strand has to handle without the Wonder Boys backing him up.”

TK and Evan both groaned at Owen’s use of their old nickname—given to them by the members of the 252 when they were growing up and obsessed with the idea of following their fathers’ footsteps. “Seriously, Uncle Owen?”

Owen laughed at his jest when the rumble of engines interrupted their banter. The three of them looked up and saw the new firetruck had arrived and another truck delivering kitchen equipment had showed up as well.

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Owen said, immediately falling into Captain mode. “TK, you handle the truck; let them know which bay is safer to park it in for now and get the rundown on its specs. Evan, you let the team in the kitchen know which appliance goes where. They’ve got a few plans lying around everywhere so they shouldn’t need too much direction with that, but you never know. I’ll go handle the offices upstairs.”

TK and Evan both nodded and started to head off on their individual tasks. Owen also let them know if he needed to sign for anything to just come find him to take care of it. The boys also agreed to get the uniforms and smaller equipment organized after they’d finished their other jobs.

By the end of the day, the kitchen was finished, and large drop cloths shielded it from the rest of the construction work still ongoing. Most of the station’s new lighting fixtures were installed in the main truck bay, a new staircase to the second floor was nearly finished, and the bunkroom was done. Most of the work remaining involved updating the bathroom, completing Owen and the Paramedic Captain’s offices, and installing the last of the storage and furniture pieces.

The three men left the station pleased with all they accomplished and eager to really start working. After cleaning up back at the hotel and grabbing a quick dinner, they all spent the evening relaxing. TK and Owen discussed potential therapists and upcoming NA meetings, and Evan took some time to call Maddie to give her an update.

She seemed pleased with him and excited about all the ongoing work he and the Strands had been doing, asking questions and expressing her delight at how much input Owen had afforded him. A small part of Evan couldn’t help but find it frustrating how interested Maddie was in his life now that he wasn’t in the same time zone, when she had all but ignored him months earlier. But he told that part of himself to get over it, that he was moving on from those feelings, and that it hadn’t been all on Maddie.

When the two of them hung up—once again, with no mention of anyone at the 118–Evan told himself it would probably be in his interest to find a therapist to speak to as well. TK wasn’t the only one who came to Texas to start fresh, and Evan knew his own recovery probably wouldn’t succeed without a bit of extra input.

When they all had eventually turned in for the evening, Evan resolved to talk to Owen soon about working with one of the AFD’s department therapists. He wanted to start his tenure with the AFD on the right foot, with both his new crew and himself, and he figured talking to a professional was a good way to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so not all of the interviews were in this one! Next up, we'll see Judd for the first time (or is it?) and a slew of other Lone Star favorites. 
> 
> I've really enjoyed where this story has taken me and I hope you're all enjoying it too. The next chapter should hopefully cover the rest of the pilot--so long as it doesn't become insanely long again! And that big, surprising moment I teased last chapter between Buck and another character is coming up too. It's a good one and a section of this story I'm super proud of, so I can only hope you all like it just as much. 
> 
> Kudos, comments, and shouty caps are always appreciated if you're feeling so inclined. Thank you all for reading and we'll see you in less than a week for Chapter 10! ♡


	10. What Would You Have Me Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new 126 is slowly coming together and the Buckley-Strand family is making Austin home. But the appearance of an unfamiliar face in the new firehouse has Evan questioning whether things have truly started to fall into place or not. And back with the 118, the fallout of Buck's departure is only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Mushu from the 1998 Mulan, I live!!! 
> 
> With that out of the way, to all my lovely readers who have stuck through this absence waiting for an update, thank you so much for your patience and your reading! I never intended to disappear at all, let alone for as long as I did. But, in the past few months, there have been a lot of big changes and conflicts in my life, and it all sent my muse hiding under a rock. Literally, she was hiding under there so long, I never thought I'd see her again. But, at last, she crawled out from where she was hiding and helped me create a new chapter for you all!
> 
> I have a tendency to really drag stories out, so, no, we haven't gotten past the pilot yet. That just means there will be more chapters for all of you to read in the future! Please know that, even if I disappear for a period of time, I would never abandon a writing project. I never begin a project without the intention of finishing it, and this fic is no different. I have no idea how long it will be, considering we haven't even gotten out of the pilot yet, but it will be a complete fic--eventually! Thankfully, until then, there is plenty of material for me to work with. 
> 
> As usual, any mistakes are mine and the only beta reader I have is my cat. Oh, and I don't own any part of the 9-1-1 universe, I just enjoy writing fics about it. I really enjoyed this chapter, particularly writing from Chimney's POV. I just hope I did him justice! Now, without further yammering on from me, please enjoy the next chapter of I Will Carry You!

The following day was Evan and TK’s first overnight shift at the 126. It was more arbitrary at this point, seeing as the rest of the team wouldn’t officially start working until the end of the following week and the construction wasn’t even finished yet. But Evan hadn’t worked an overnight shift in a while, and TK didn’t want Evan to have to be alone, so the pair of them saw no reason not to get themselves acquainted with the shift in a new station.

They figured it would also give them a chance to get the last of the new shelving units installed and do inventory on the trucks and equipment that had already arrived.

Marjan and Paul were both still in town and they, along with Mateo, offered to come in that afternoon at the start of shift to get their new uniforms and a semi-official tour of the house. Once they departed, the boys knew there wouldn’t be much else to distract then from the inevitable inventory process. But Evan also knew how critical it was for construction to start wrapping up and get the real work started, so he didn’t even mind the tedium of the boring tasks—as long as it meant the real work starting that much faster.

Before their shift, however, Evan, Owen, and TK were meeting with a realtor to check out some rental properties. The three of them met their agent, Gina, at her office and she took them around to the few listings they’d all been interested in. Unfortunately, as nice as they’d been on paper, none of them offered the same appeal in person. Bedrooms were too small, or there wasn’t enough storage space, or the kitchen wasn’t functional. They all had something they didn’t like about each of the homes.

“Well,” Gina said, after they’d turned down the last home she’d taken them to. “I do have a property that’s just come on the market last night, but it’s a little further out of your desired neighborhood and price range than you originally gave me. It’s a gorgeous location though and really offers quite a bit for the price. Would you be interested?”

Figuring it couldn’t hurt to look, the three men shrugged in agreement and followed the realtor to the rental. It was only another ten minutes from where they’d set their preferred distance so, even with traffic, it hopefully wouldn’t take more than thirty minutes for them to reach the station.

It was a two-story detached house in an attractive navy-blue color. ‘Unique choice,’ Evan thought. Walking in, they could tell it had been recently remodeled, with a semi-open-concept first floor area and modern fixtures.

“It’s a three-bedroom property with both a driveway and street parking available. Carpeting is new in all the bedrooms and the first-floor hardwoods were refinished two years ago. There’s a jacuzzi tub in the master, and another bath downstairs,” Gina listed off as she took them quickly through the bedrooms upstairs and back down to the main floor.

Even though the house only had two bathrooms, the bedrooms were huge compared to what they’d seen in the previous rentals. The parking situation was a decent bonus, and from what they could tell, the neighborhood was incredibly quiet—something that was different, yet refreshing, for all of them.

Owen and TK followed her into the kitchen while Evan looked over the view from the dining room window. “All the appliances are new. Kitchen was renovated last year,” Gina continued listing from across the room. “Great backyard; hill country views. Rent’s $4500.”

Owen had been heading towards the open patio door, but he immediately spun around in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

Evan snorted a laugh at his uncle’s disbelief while he continued to look at the dining room lighting fixtures. He was pleased to see the pendulum lights hung high enough that he wouldn’t hit his head on them the way he would’ve at some of the other properties. He kept an ear on the conversation while he wandered back towards the front of the house and admired the fireplace.

“If that’s a problem, we can talk to the owners,” he heard Gina offer up politely.

“No!” Owen spit out hastily. “It’s not a problem.”

Evan could practically hear the way his uncle tried to relax himself and regain his “cool”, while Gina excused herself to let them talk it over. She breezed past him out the front door, and he made his way back towards the kitchen. He had to admit, the enormous gas stove did give him the urge to get back to practicing his cooking—even if the memories that immediately followed his thought stung.

Owen looked at TK and made a “What the f-” motion with his hands, causing another chuckle to spill out of Evan’s mouth.

“I can rent this in Texas for less than a studio apartment in Red Hook,” TK said, surprise still evident in his voice.

“Well, ‘cause that Brooklyn real estate is dumb! I mean,” Owen looked around the room again, his eyes landing on Evan comfortably leaning against the enormous kitchen island. “I think we kind of have to do this.”

Evan met his gaze and nodded in agreement, before TK asked, “Isn’t it a little much for just one guy?”

“What do you mean?” Owen asked.

“I’m—I’m not living with my dad, like, permanently. Am I?” Evan almost laughed at how genuinely confused his cousin sounded. “And, what about Evan?” TK asked, motioning to the man in question.

“My only priority right now is that you live. Both of you,” Owen exclaimed, walking with TK out onto the deck. He looked back as Evan followed the pair. “That means keeping you under my roof. Remember our deal? You do what I say?”

“Yeah, TK. Besides, weren’t you the one who always said it was too bad we didn’t ever really live together long-term? Now, we get to find out how that will really go!” Evan said with excitement, bumping elbows with his cousin.

“Wait, you mean, you’re going to live with us too?” Evan nodded in reply. His excitement was obviously infectious, if the smile on TK’s face was anything to go by. “Oh, hell yeah!” TK shouted, high-fiving Evan.

“Yeah,” Owen answered. “I figured if I was going to bring you boys back together for good, I may as well give myself as much trouble as humanly possible while I’m at it.” The elder Strand put a hand on both the boys’ shoulders, cracking another smile at his joke.

“Ha ha, Dad, real funny,” TK responded, lightly shoving Owen’s hand off his arm, while Evan just rolled his eyes and lightly elbowed his uncle.

“I know, I’m hilarious. You don’t have to remind me,” Owen said, before looking at his watch. “Okay, let me get Gina back in here and figure out what we have to do to lock this up. By the way, don’t you have a meeting before your shift?” he asked, looking at his son.

“All right, all right.” TK gently rolled his eyes and tapped his dad on the side. He made his way back through the kitchen before Evan stopped him.

“Hey, cuz! Don’t forget these!” Evan pulled the keys to his Jeep from his pocket and tossed them through the air to TK. The younger Strand had planned to purchase a car at some point, but for now, they were sharing Evan’s.

“You need me to come back and get you from the hotel?”

“Nah, he can ride with me,” Owen replied. “I’ve got a meeting in a few hours I’m coming in for anyway. 

“Got it, Dad. I’ll see you guys later then.”

Evan and Owen both waved him off before following to find Gina and get whatever paperwork needed to secure the rental finalized.

* * *

A half hour and three sets of keys later, Owen and Evan both made their way into the 126.

They ran into TK in the locker room, already changed into his uniform. Owen and Evan both made quick work of changing as well and headed back out to the main truck bays.

While Evan started in on looking over the new truck and getting its inventory review started, TK grabbed the box of remaining uniforms and waited on their three new crew members to arrive. A few minutes later, three piles of fabric were ready, and Marjan, Mateo, and Paul had arrived at the House.

Evan gave them all a tour, explaining where everything would be—if it wasn’t there already—and answering any of their questions as best he could regarding the new 126. He gave them all an opportunity to change into the uniforms to ensure there were no fit issues, and made his way back to TK. His cousin was pulling another large box with their new turnout coats from the storage closet, and Evan helped him lug it over near the truck.

At some point during his tour, Owen had made his way down from his makeshift office to inspect the work his son and nephew had gotten done. Since, for the time being, they only had one truck, he asked Evan to double check again that the one they had was fully stocked with everything they needed, and he asked Evan if there were any equipment he thought they could use but didn’t have. Ignoring how his Uncle’s confidence in him thrilled him, Evan made it a point to go through each of the two enormous toolboxes they had on hand before going over every inch of the truck to ensure nothing that could improve their process was missing.

While Evan continued with the truck and TK passed out the turnout coats, Owen stood sentry in the truck bay, his eyes trained on the entrance to the House. Eventually, he made a move towards the open doors with a polite greeting, and both Evan and TK turned to see who’d made an appearance.

The mystery guest was tall and broad, with a short crop of brown hair and tanned skin. He wore a denim jacket, brown jeans, and indecipherable expression. Evan tried to figure out why the guy looked so familiar, but he couldn’t place him. He also reminded himself he didn’t know anyone in Texas, so he couldn’t possibly have a clue who this guy was. ‘Must just have one of those faces,’ Evan figured.

He returned to finishing his task, while TK watched his father escort the visitor up the stairs to the framed-out Captain’s office. The man seemed to hesitate before following Owen, a dark grimace crossing his face the farther he stepped into the building. They all saw the pair of men take a seat at the table set up on the second floor but couldn’t hear what was said as the meeting commenced.

Eventually, Evan finished writing up his recommendation list for the truck, and TK had finished organizing Marjan, Paul, and Mateo’s gear. The pair of men said their goodbyes to their new teammates, and Evan left TK to get a head start on the shelves. He figured his uncle’s meeting had finished up, and he wanted to get him his list before helping his cousin.

As he made his way up the unfinished staircase, he heard his uncle gently say, **“I’m sorry about your crew,”** and it brought Evan to an immediate halt.

 **“They weren’t just my crew. You know, you should know that,”** a rough voice colored by a Texas drawl retorted. “ **They were my brothers, so—let’s just, let’s just cut the—the fake-ass condolences, and—I don’t even understand why I had to come down here to interview for a job that I’ve had since I graduated high school.”**

The last sentence was punctuated by the sound of what Evan could imagine were fingers frustratedly tapping on the makeshift desk in his uncle’s office. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but the man’s words had him riveted to his spot out of sight. Evan may not have met him, but he could tell the guy was angry. No question about that. But beneath the anger was something else: devotion. This man, obviously the lone survivor of the 126, retained his devotion to his crew even after death had taken them from him.

It was the kind of loyalty Evan had always felt for the 118, despite their inability—save for Chimney—to return the favor.

He couldn’t help but feel jealous at the way this man, who had lost so much, still managed to remain so steadfast in his commitment to his team in the face of such devastation. Evan had lost his team in a way that didn’t even come close to the horrific way this man had lost his, and Evan had all but come apart at the seams.

How this guy was holding it together, Evan couldn’t even fathom.

It was only as he tuned back into the conversation and heard the way the man—Mr. Ryder—grew increasingly angry at what his uncle had to say, that Evan realized the guy may not have been holding it together as well as he claimed to.

 **“Who the hell do you think you are?”** Ryder ground out. **“This is my house.”**

The silence between the two men, along with his uncle’s soft apology, spoke volumes. Ryder’s angry slam of a chair jolted him back to reality, and he realized the meeting was probably coming to an end. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he slowly made his way up the staircase, doing his best to remain inconspicuous while he watched the two men stare across the table at each other.

“So, how about this? How about you take your ‘sorry’, and you stick it up your ass?” Ryder said before angrily sliding his chair back and stomping out of the room.

Evan couldn’t help but notice the man’s voice got just the slightest bit more gravelly, as though he were choking something down, when he made his departing comment.

Evan opened his mouth to ask his uncle what that had been about, but Owen simply met Evan’s sorrowful gaze with a raise of his eyebrows and a shake of his head. He reached out a hand to take Evan’s list and quickly changed the subject to discussing his nephew’s recommendations.

* * *

Later that night, after the workers all left and Owen returned to the hotel to arrange their move to the new house, Evan and TK finished all their inventorying and shelf-building. By late evening, a calm fell over the 126.

He and TK whipped up a quick stir fry dinner, set up the workout room, and did a sweep over the bathrooms to ensure everything was tidy. Eventually, TK’s yawns grew more frequent, and Evan gently pushed him in the direction of the bunkroom, letting him know he’d follow shortly.

Then, it was just Evan wandering through the firehouse, absorbing the hush that had taken over the building. With all the new construction, not to mention so many people coming and going through the place, the building had started to feel a little less haunted. Still, Evan couldn’t ignore the way the entire building felt like a person needing to release a breath—as though it was suspended in time, waiting for something to happen that would release the invisible tension.

Standing over the balcony on the second floor, his thoughts turned to the guy from earlier, Judd Ryder, Evan had learned. Hours after the guy had stormed out of the 126, it occurred to Evan that Judd looked familiar because he was the cowboy he’d seen standing outside the firehouse the day they’d all arrived in Austin. He felt guilty looking the guy up, but Evan was curious about the original 126’s lone survivor and needed to find out more.

According to the report, after the accident at the fertilizer plant, Ryder spent six weeks in the hospital with a severe concussion, pulmonary contusion, auditory ruptures, and a smattering of burns, projectile lacerations, and fractures sustained in the blast.

It was a miracle the man had even survived.

Evan spent hours pondering Judd Ryder, thinking about the way the man had reacted to the firehouse and lashed out at Owen. He grew frustrated by his fascination with a man he didn’t even know, only to realize it had been a long time since he’d felt a genuine sense of camaraderie with anyone the way he could with Judd Ryder.

He may not have been the lone survivor of a firehouse tragedy, but Evan couldn’t ignore that it was a miracle he too survived all the accidents he had. Especially when, particularly during the tsunami, other people hadn’t.

Surviving when others didn’t, knowing that you should’ve died, was an unbelievable weight to carry. And surviving at the cost of not being able to do the job you were meant to; being told you weren’t ready when you felt like you were?

Evan could relate to that more than anything else Judd Ryder must’ve been feeling.

The overwhelming need to do something to help Judd Ryder overcame him. Evan’s desire to help people, to save them, was constantly in the back of his head, but this was more than that. Evan wanted to do for Judd what his Uncle had done for him: he wanted to save him.

The question was…how?

* * *

** Chimney **

**_One week ago…_ **

The sound of Buck’s footsteps darting down the stairs and out of the firehouse would reverberate in Chimney’s ears for hours after he left. Letting out a sigh, he picked up his coffee mug and headed to the pot for a refill.

He could practically feel everyone else’s eyes burning a hole through the back of his head.

When he turned back around, Chimney was unsurprised to see a mixture of glares and sad faces staring back at him. Taking a sip of his coffee, he stayed where he was, leaned back against the counter, and waited. He’d managed to rein in his temper, but he figured giving everyone some breathing room couldn’t hurt.

“How could you just let him leave, Chim?” Hen asked, a heartbroken look in her eyes. “Why did you just let him walk out?”

“What would you have had me do, Hen?”

“You could’ve said something! You could’ve done something!”

Chim ignored the way her guilty and sorrowful expression stung. He had enough of his own guilt; he didn’t need hers too. “You know, Hen, you’re my best friend, but I can’t believe you can stand there and say that to me. ‘I could’ve done something’? I did do something, Henrietta. I had Buck’s back; I looked out for him.” He leaned over the island, set down his mug, and pointed in their direction. “When all of you decided that a guy who all but gave his life for this job—several times I might add, who saved dozens of people during a tsunami despite the threat to his own health, **who saved one of your children,** wasn’t worth forgiving for one mistake, I was the one who held him together. Every time one of you tore him down, I tried to build him back up. When you all pretended like he didn’t exist, I tried to show him he did. When you all acted like he was nothing, I tried to remind him he was someone. **I did the best I could; you’re the ones who should’ve ‘done something.’”**

They all at least had the nerve to look chagrined; even Eddie, despite the anger still in his eyes and the clench of his fists. “Well, what are we supposed to do now? Do you know where he’s going?” Eddie asked him.

Chim crossed his arms and looked down at his coffee mug, his desire to drink the beverage waning. Evan hadn’t specifically told him and Maddie not to tell the others where he was going, but Chim also wasn’t about to give it away.

“Chim,” Bobby said, stepping in front of him from across the island. “Do you know where he’s going?”

At any other time, on any other day, the despondent look on Bobby’s face might have swayed Chimney to tell the whole truth. But, unfortunately for the rest of his team, that day wasn’t today.

“I do, but I won’t be the one to tell you,” he said emptying his mug into the sink behind him, before putting it in the dishwasher. “It’s not up to me to share that with you. It’ll be in Buck’s hands, if he ever decides to come back.”

“But Chim—”

A sudden clang of the bells disrupted whatever Bobby was going to say. Not wanting to draw this out any further, Chim darted down the stairs towards his turnout gear, counting on the rest of them to follow.

He figured the conversation wasn’t over, but for now, they all had a job to do and Chimney wasn’t about to let anyone else down.

* * *

A few hours of emergencies and avoiding conversations, Chimney was almost free. It was the end of their shift and everyone was in the process of changing to go home.

The silence in the locker room followed them all out to the main truck bay.

As Chim was getting ready to say a hasty “goodnight,” each of their phones chimed at once. Having a feeling he knew what it would be about, Chim swiped open his screen and found a text from Athena.

 ** _Athena Grant:_** I want all of you at the house in 20. No excuses.

 ** _Athena Grant:_** You too, Chimney. 

He responded with a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” before shrugging at his teammates and heading for the parking lot. On the way to the Grant-Nash house, he called Maddie and told her what was going on. She’d already heard from Athena and let him know she was aware of the situation. She wouldn’t be joining him as she wasn’t quite ready to face the rest of the 118 just yet, but she let him know she’d be waiting up for him when he got home.

Chimney was the first to arrive, and he made quick work of knocking on Athena’s door. The smile she greeted him with was somber, but she didn’t seem like she was going to unleash the famous “Athena Grant Temper” on him. She welcomed him in and instructed him to sit and wait for the others.

Eventually, the other three 118 members made their appearances, Athena’s face considerably less kind when greeting them than it had been greeting Chimney. When they were all seated in the living room, Athena—in typical fashion—got straight to the point.

“I’m not going to waste my breath yelling at all of you. It’s been a long night, and I’m tired. What I am going to do is ask you what the hell you all were possibly thinking when you drove that boy away like you have. And you better have a damn good explanation.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, waiting to hear them out. Eddie put his head in hands, clenching his fingers in his hair. Bobby shifted uncomfortably with his eyes glued to the floor. Hen simply sat there and stared out the window at the back yard. If Chimney didn’t know her better, he’d say she hadn’t even heard Athena at all.

“Athena,” Chimney spoke, clearing his throat and leaning forward in his chair. “If I may, I have something to say.”

She waved her hand towards him, offering him the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers together, trying to figure out exactly where to start.

“You know, for months, I’ve listened to everything; I’ve seen everything. I’ve watched you ignore him, Hen. I’ve listened to the way the others in the house ostracize him. I’ve listened to every single biting comment or critique out of your mouth about absolutely every move he makes, Eddie. And all the while, I’ve waited for you, Bobby, to do your job—to stand up and stop this from happening. I waited for all of you to stop. And you didn’t.”

He gave his words a moment to sink in before continuing. When Bobby tried to interrupt, Chimney held up a hand and said, “I’m not finished. I know you’re probably going to sit there and tell me you didn’t know better that Buck never said anything, that you just assumed you were teaching him a lesson, that you figured eventually he’d stand up for himself or ask for help. Do you know how many times I took one look at that phony smile pasted on his face, those fronts he put on for all of you and everyone else, and almost filed a complaint with the Chief? The number of times I had emails typed up, his phone number ready to dial, or how close I’d come to just going to his office and telling him the truth? I can’t even guess at a number. And do you know who stopped me every single time?”

All of them except Athena shook their hands, though Chimney assumed it was pretty easy to guess who he meant.

“Buck. Every single time I would tell him I was going to put a stop to this—this circus you’ve all created, he wouldn’t let me. In fact, he made me promise not to report all of you, a decision I still don’t think I ever should have made. But I did it for him, because he didn’t ask for himself. He asked because he was concerned about Maddie. You’d all become just as important to her as you are to him, and he refused to let her lose another family.”

Chimney quieted and watched them all shift uncomfortably, the true weight of what their behavior had cost them obviously starting to sink in. After a few moments of silence, Eddie picked up his head, and with his eyes closed and fists balled, he said, “What do you mean ‘another family’?”

Before Chimney could answer, Athena interrupted. “What, did you all think Buck and Maddie just showed up here out of thin air? That they came from nowhere? Well?” When the three of them—minus Chimney—shook their heads, Athena answered her own question. “Maddie and Buck were born in Manhattan. Their mother worked for the city and their father was a firefighter. From what we know,” she said, waving to Chimney. “They had a very happy childhood, until the attack on September 11th, when their father was killed in the South Tower Collapse.”

Bobby, Hen, and Eddie all dropped their jaws, while Chimney simply leaned forward in his chair again and rested his chin on his folded hands. Closing his eyes, he continued for Athena. “They almost lost their uncle too, and shortly after, the family disintegrated. Their aunt and uncle divorced, their mother, Julia, fell into a year-long depression that left Maddie to take care of Buck, and eventually Julia married a man who all-but-detested children. The pair of them basically ignored Maddie and Evan, until Maddie returned to college and never came back. Their mother and her new husband forced Evan to move to Pennsylvania, away from the only home he knew, isolating and ignoring him until they too drove him away.”

“Seems like a common occurrence around Evan Buckley,” Athena interjected, venom clear in her words.

“Unfortunately, yes, Athena,” Chimney responded. “As far as I know, their mother hasn’t seen or spoken to either of them in over a decade. Evan never told me much about that time, but the way Maddie talks about it makes it sound like 9/11 destroyed their family. It cost them everything but each other and their uncle’s small family. So,” Chimney stopped for a moment, ignoring the tears in Hen’s eyes, the clench in Bobby’s jaw, and the way Eddie’s head was once again in his hands. “When I say that Buck didn’t want to cost Maddie ‘another family,’ that is what I mean.”

The silence around them was suddenly deafening. Having said his piece, Chimney sat back in his chair and waited. Eventually, it was Bobby who moved first, throwing himself off the couch and wandering over to the patio doors. He placed both hands against the window and leaned back with his head hung towards the floor. Athena’s stony glare swept across both Eddie and Hen, the two of them red-faced with moist eyes.

Before either of them could speak, Athena jumped out of her chair and loomed over the two firefighters. “How could you two do this? I mean for heaven’s sake, Eddie, he kept your son alive in a tsunami! And you, Henrietta! You watched that boy struggle to survive under that firetruck. You pulled him out from under it! I watched him choke up blood and nearly die on my god damn patio! How much more would you have him go through? Why would you put him through something like this? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

They didn’t get a chance to do more than look ashamed when Athena spun on her heel and turned towards her husband. “And you, Bobby! Why did you let this happen? After you claimed to care so much for that boy, how could you encourage this or just pretend like it wasn’t happening? Why did you distance yourself so much like this from what was going on?!”

All the while Athena was yelling at Eddie and Hen, Bobby had kept himself turned towards the door. When Athena turned around on him, something in him seemed to snap. He whipped himself around, eyes red with tears, and shouted back, “BECAUSE IT’S MY FAULT THEY GET HURT AND DIE! I get all my kids killed, Athena! It’s all my fault,” he screamed out. To Bobby’s credit, it seemed to have shocked them all enough to silence everyone. If he noticed, he didn’t say; he just kept ranting on, seemingly unable to stop himself. “In Minnesota, the kids died because of me, because I set that fire. And when that truck exploded and Buck almost died, first from the explosion and then the embolism? That was because of me! Because Freddy was trying to kill me, and Buck got caught in the middle! If it hadn’t been for me, Buck wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the explosion or had the embolism, and when the tsunami hit, he would’ve been on the truck with the team where he belonged.”

Bobby’s shouting slowly eased until he was speaking in little more than a whisper. His hands were clenched so hard, Chimney wouldn’t have been surprised if his fingernails had drawn blood. Athena slowly approached him, reaching out to cover his hands with her own. “Bobby—” she started to say, when he interrupted.

“I hurt all my kids, Athena. They die because of me, and I couldn’t let it happen to another one. I couldn’t get close to Buck again because I knew I’d almost cost him his life once, and I couldn’t let it happen again. But it doesn’t matter now, because I lost him anyway!” If it weren’t for the tears rolling down his cheeks, Chimney might have believed the laughter he heard coming from Bobby’s throat was genuine and not a product of a temporary sort of mania.

Chimney may have been angry at Bobby and the others for what they did to Buck, but he couldn’t ignore the way seeing his captain fall apart like he was broke something inside the paramedic. It had apparently done the same for everyone else, and for a few minutes, the only sounds were Bobby’s anguished sobs, and Athena’s gentle attempts to calm him.

Eventually, Athena managed to coax Bobby into the seat she’d vacated, while she sat next to him on the arm of the chair. The tears had stopped, and they all sat contemplating everything they’d heard. Until finally, Hen said, “What do we do now, Bobby? How do we make this right?”

“Chim, you know where Buck is going, right?” Eddie answered quickly. “Tell us, and we can stop him. Or—or we can go find him and apologize and bring him back.”

Despite the hopeful look, Chim could still see the undercurrent of tense anger beneath Eddie’s façade. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t Buck Eddie was really angry at, but he wasn’t a mind-reader, and he wasn’t about to guess. “I can’t do that, Eddie.”

“Why the hell not?! You said it yourself; we shouldn’t have let this happen and now we have to fix it!” Eddie leapt to his feet; his palms held out in frustration.

“He can’t do it because Buck asked him not to, the same way he asked me not to,” Athena answered for Chimney.

“He—he told you not to tell us?” Eddie asked, seemingly stunned, as he fell back to his seat.

While Buck hadn’t technically come out and asked him not to tell anyone where he went, Chimney felt like he owed it to his friend to give him a real chance to escape this place—to truly start fresh. If that meant lying about it, so be it. “If you find out, you find out. But it won’t be from me. I didn’t do half as much as I should’ve for Buck while he was here. The least I can do is let him have his freedom.”

Chimney leaned forward in his seat again and checked his watch. It was going on midnight and he’d had enough. He needed to go be with Maddie, then get up early and help Buck. He decided to leave his teammates with a final bit of advice before taking off.

“I’m going to strongly suggest something,” he said, rising to his feet and stretching out his shoulders. “I urge you all to take a good long look at what made you all so mad that you thought you needed to do this to Buck. Was it really the lawsuit that made you feel like this? Because I’ll tell you something: he had a case, and he would’ve won. Everything that got said at that deposition was the truth. The delivery may not have been exceptional, but nothing that lawyer said was untrue. So, who are you all really mad at? Buck? Or yourselves? Maybe, at this point, it’s both. I don’t know.”

He moved to walk around the coffee table and headed towards the stairs out. “I’ll tell you all something else too. Buck needs to be away from here, away from all of this for a while. We all but suffocated him to the point that he feels like a shell of himself right now. We did that—to a man who was our friend, our brother. I don’t know about you, but I think the least we can do is give him a chance to find himself, find happiness again, without hurting him anymore than he already has been.”

Taking a step up the staircase, he turned back around one more time. “I’m always here for you guys, but I won’t be a part of this anymore. You all better figure out what’s going on with yourselves, because if we can’t fix this, there will be no way to replace what we’ve lost.”

Chimney nodded to Athena, and without waiting another moment, climbed up the stairs and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again to all my readers for taking the time to read my fic and being so patient with how long it took to get this chapter out. I'm hopeful to have the next one out within a week or two, and I'm going to try my hardest to stick to that schedule! 
> 
> In the meantime, if you have any comments you'd like to share or any scenes/characters you'd be interested in seeing next, please drop them in the box below! Me and my angsty muse live and breathe for the 9-1-1 universe, so I'd hate to leave anything out! 
> 
> ♡


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